When Marty Met Dockie
by Blind Spot
Summary: Marty and Doc meet and begin becoming friends in the original 1982. Being slightly revised. FINISHED. THE STORY WILL HAVE 2 MORE SEQUELS AS SEPARATE ENTRIES.
1. The Unexpected Meeting

Wednesday, June 30th, 1982.

Hill Valley, California.

3:30 PM.

14-year-old Marty McFly had just began his summertime vacation. This would be the last free summer he'd have before high school was to start in the fall. Anyone who even remotely knew the boy, though, didn't need a P.H.D to see that he wasn't exactly waiting hand on foot for that day to arrive.

Marty wasn't a troublemaker, per se, but liked to goof off and have fun. If there was one thing he really loved, though, it was rock and roll – playing it, listening to it, new or old. At the time, he was jamming with his band, The Pinheads. The other members were bassist, Brantley; backup guitarist, Chris; and drummer, Scott. The four had been good friends since kindergarten. For now, they were simply a garage band that occasionally had a small audience of neighborhood young teens, or classmates. If they had a number of people watching that equaled the number of bandmembers themselves, they were lucky. Hey, better than nothing, though!

Marty stood in Chris' large garage, where Chris lived with his parents and older brother in a suburban neighborhood just off John F. Kennedy Drive. Marty had a short-sleeved red t-shirt and jeans on. Though it was less subtle than his friends -– all of whom had more heavy metal type clothes and hairstyles (and Scott sporting a Judas Priest T-shirt) -– it was clear the young McFly was cool, and seemed like he could be a future rock star if he tried enough.

He paused to look at his cheap Casio digital watch and noted the time. _3:30! Man, how did it get so late?_ He asked his bandmates. "Hey guys, I gotta be home by 5 for dinner. You know how my mom is gonna be if I'm late, right?"

"No kidding, dude!" replied Brantley. "But, come on, that's an hour and a half and we were all sounding pretty tubular. What do you gotta do before then, McFly? Don't tell me you got a girlfriend now!" teased his friend playfully, knowing how afraid the teen was about even making eye contact with a member of the opposite sex.

"Nah, man, of course not! I'm shorter than them for cryin' out loud, and they all think I'm younger than I really am. The only girl that would actually wanna go out with me would be in 6th grade or something," he said a little upset, but wouldn't let his friends catch him like that. "Anyway, okay, I'll sing another Petty song, that guy rules anyway, right?" asked Marty, to which none of his friends argued.

Before long, everyone got back in front of their instruments, as the opening guitar chords of their favorite song "Refugee" began, Marty & Chris played the guitar notes even louder than the normal song was, making it as hard-rocking as possible. After Marty's belted a good beginner's rendition of the song, followed by a solo, instead of the fade-out of the original, he really did have to go.

"Alright, that wasn't bad, dudes!" said Scott. "A few more covers like that and we might actually get some fans that live beyond the eyesight of this house. We really should get a keyboardist, though. Marty, you can do Tom's vocals way better than that lame Steve Perry imitation from earlier," he joked of Marty's inability to hold a note like Journey's lead singer could do with ease.

"Get off my case, man, I'll get it someday," laughed Marty. "I really gotta take off now. Is anybody up for some Pac-Man at the 7-11?"

Everyone more-or-less declined, so he just said, "See y'all later then! I'll come by tomorrow if I can."

"Later, McFly," he heard from his friends as he headed out the door. Walking down Palmdale Avenue for around a third of a mile in the hot summer sun, he made a right onto JFK Drive, heading towards the local Burger King for an afternoon snack. His older brother Dave was going to be working there today, and knew he'd give him free food, providing his boss, Mr. Smith, didn't catch him.

Today, though, as he approached the building, he was stopped in his tracks by one of the biggest jerks in school, Douglas Needles, along with his three hoodlum friends. One of them wore dark sunglasses and was the son of Biff's high-school buddy, 3-D. Another was a long descendant of Buford Tannen's gang. The other would become the dad of one of Griff Tannen's 2015 buddies.

_Oh, sh-t, not them again!_ Seeing the drive-thru was empty, he tried cutting through it and going around the building. He hoped he could sneak in before being seen, so he could wait it out until they left. It was to no avail. They just went around the other side.

"H-hey, McFly, where do you think you're going?" asked Needles as he got really close to Marty with his awful morning breath. He also was pretty scary looking for his age, especially with three cronies in tow.

"Hey, Needles, what's it to you, huh? Just going into BK," said Marty, trying to be polite and friendly as possible. It was clear, though, that he couldn't wait until these ugly punks left him alone.

"Whoa. Is the big M getting mad today? I think it's just because you realized what a loser you are, just like that old man of yours," the bully teased. "You know why I stopped hanging out with you after the 6th grade, don't ya? Cause you wouldn't do all the pranks the cool kids like us were doin'! You kept worryin' about getting caught."

3-D's son, Ike, smiled as he turned to the head bully. "Doug, I think that means we know what we wanna ask him, now, right? Perfect timing for you, McFly!"

"Good point, Ike," Needles said, turning to Marty. "McFly, there's a crazy old man who lives in this building here. We were just on our way to egg and spray paint the dump. That nut lives in this garage, and I think the dump looks like a storage unit. Well, since you're here, why don't you do it?" he taunted. "I'll let you hang out with us again."

Marty sighed a bit, knowing exactly what kind of guys these were. He had to wonder if there ever was a day they didn't go out looking to cause trouble. "Hey, I would, guys, but I'm not really up to this today. I just wanna get something to eat, relax and go home! Maybe some other time, okay?" he fibbed on the last part. He figured he'd cross that bridge when it came, even if he didn't want it to.

They weren't satisfied, especially Doug. "Tell you what, man, I'll give ya 5 bucks right here, right now. Free money, just egg the dump! Forget about the paint, just get a few of these things flyin'! Put one right through the window too, that'd be so funny watching the old man try to get it off!"

All four boys howled with laughter at the mere thought of this. Marty wouldn't ever do that. He loved to have fun, and could be a little bit of a prankster, but doing that kind of thing was a line he wouldn't cross. At that second, though, Doug Needles reached into the grocery bag he was using to carry their stuff, took out a dozen eggs and dropped them into Marty's hands.

"McFly, here's a dozen, now, pick one up and throw it, unless you're chicken!" taunted the bully.

He hated that word. It reminded him of the weakness of his father he'd almost rather die than inherit. Anyone who knew Marty knew that was, for better or worse, a way to get the teen to do almost anything under the sun. Hesitantly, Marty picked one of the eggs up, and handed the box back. As they gave him a strong _Well, come on_ kind of look, he thought hard for a second.

_Maybe I could miscalculate on purpose and toss it on the ground. What do I have to lose if I just tell them I missed?_

Not wanting to take any chances, though, he remembered an old trick that might work. Pointing into the other direction, towards the street, he said, "Needles! Guys, what's that over there?"

Sure enough, they all turned to look, probably thinking it was a police car or the like. Marty took advantage of this and started to run back up JFK Drive on the sidewalk, dropping the egg causing it to break open as he took off.

For better or worse, these guys weren't quite as dumb as Biff. After a few seconds, they realized their plan failed and what their target had done. Needles shouted, "You're gonna pay for this, you-"

Just as they all ran in an attempt to catch him, Needles, Ike and the other two suddenly felt something holding them back.

"Not so fast, boys. What did he do to you?"

Marty spun back around, squeaking his shoes as he did. He saw a white haired, energetic looking man stopping the foursome.

They all shouted, "Get your hands off us, old f-rt! What's it to you, you don't know us!"

Speaking slow, calm, yet sternly and loudly, the older man simply said, "Maybe not, but you boys should get going before you're sorry. I don't want to have to report you all, and don't think I won't either."

"We've made Doctor Brown mad! I'm just really scared," Needles said as they all jokingly said "Ooooh" in unison as they tried to shove the still strong Doc out of the way. "What are you gonna do, use us for experiments?" he continued rudely.

Just as Brown was going to make another comment, his bearded collie, Einstein, who was only a year old, realized he had to protect his master. He growled and ran out of his owner's grip of his leash. Charging with high speed before the boys could react, he bit Needles in the leg. As the young punk began to shout in slight pain, they all finally let go and started running, leaving their eggs and the old shopping bag with spray paint behind.

"You better watch it, McFly. Both of you now!" Needles shouted as his voice got further away.

Staying out of the way, Marty couldn't believe his eyes at the sight he had seen. Who was this guy who had saved him without even knowing who he was? Before Marty could catch his breath, the man spoke up.

"Excuse me, are you alright, kid?"

"Yeah, I think so. Hey, thanks a lot, you didn't have to do that. I'm used to dealing with those jerks all the time," Marty said, as they walked closer to his garage to get more privacy. "Ya know, the worst thing like that I've ever done is 'Ding-Dong-Ditch' and that was when I was a little kid."

For a moment, he thought he shouldn't have revealed even that, whether or not it was several years ago now or if it was a lot less serious. _This guy seems nice, but he's old. To him, all those pranks might seem impossible to tell from each other._ To his surprise, the man didn't fault him at all.

"That's nothing to be ashamed of. Lord knows, when I was a boy, I did my share of practical jokes, even if they pale in comparison to what kids do today."

"No way! At your age, you did stuff like that when you were younger?" Marty said, his voice rising in volume and pitch, clearly surprised, before realizing what he just said. "Oh, sorry, I wasn't trying to insult you or say you were old or anything, I swear."

"Don't worry 'bout it, kid. We will all age with the passage of time someday."

The teen was becoming more surprised by the second. He'd certainly never met a man like this before, considering his age. He decided to get back to the subject of what they'd originally been on. "So, anyway, I'm sorry about the trouble with those guys. I've known them for a while, but I try to stay away from them. I'm not like that."

"I can already sense that. I've had my troubles with those youngsters in the past, as well. They've done some, shall we say, experimental vandalism on my property."

"Jesus, I didn't know about that. Did you make them pay for it?" Marty asked, again wondering if that was his business or not.

"If I had it my way, I might have. Unfortunately, nothing can be proven. Their parents don't seem that attentive to what I've had to say on the matter. Plus, some people in this town view me as somewhat of a nutcase," he said with a hint of masked sadness still appeared in his tone of voice.

Marty would never have guessed it, though. "Ah, who would say that about you? I met you two seconds ago, and you already seem pretty cool to me."

"That's quite a nice thing to say, kid, but some people form opinions based on what they already believe. There's just no changing the minds of certain people, no matter how hard we try," Doc said, himself posing a difficult question. "If I can ask, is that why you were pretending to follow the orders of those boys? Because you wanted them to think differently of you."

He had never quite thought of it that way before. "I guess it was. Once again, I'm really sorry for all this. I mean, yeah, I just don't want people thinking I'm a chicken. I might not be grown-up yet or anything, but I at least wanna be one person in my family who takes stuff like a man. Saying no to a dare is like saying you're weak, isn't it?"

The scientist supposed he could understand that. "It's called peer pressure. Even in my day, we had it, even though it was far less extreme. I understand, believe me. However, sometimes, no matter how hard you try to convince those boys you're one of them, they won't believe it. In more accessible words, if they truly, in their hearts, believed you were like them, they wouldn't ask you to do anything that silly to prove such a fact, would they?"

"I guess not. That's a good point, umm, do you mind if I ask what your name is?"

"Certainly now. I'm Doctor Emmett Brown, and this is my puppy, Einstein."

Marty happily bent down to pet the animal, who barked and wagged his tail lovingly in return. "Hey, Einstein, what's up, boy?" he said. Turning up to look at Emmett he said, "Dr. Brown, my name's Marty."

"Marty, the pleasure is all mine too. By the way, 'Doctor Brown' is so formal. You can just call me 'Doc.' So, were you on your way home?"

"Actually, believe it or not, I was on my way here to the BK. My brother, Dave works here, and he'll give me a discount on food, obviously."

The recognition began to register. "I've been acquainted with your brother. He's mentioned you once or twice, now that I search into my memory's capacital storage," Doc said with a spark. "He once said you're a beginning musician."

For a moment, Marty was surprised at Doc's seemingly endless vocabulary. Next, he couldn't believe what he was hearing. "Yeah, me and a few friends like to get together and play. We mostly are into rock. Tom Petty, Loverboy, Eagles, ya know, stuff like that, but I like a lot of different artists." One part of him was half expecting the man's eyes to glaze over, completely unaware of the genre of rock & roll or popular music, or anything current for that matter.

"That's a nice sound you boys have. Even though my first endeavor is as a scientist, I'm somewhat of a musician myself. I've played the saxophone. I'm somewhat of an Elvis Presley fan, and I'm pretty much willing to like anything that's listenable."

Marty lit up at this realization. "You really do? That's great to hear. Dad listens to it a little bit, but my mom says MTV and rock music is just a waste of time. In fact, that's another thing, Doc. I spend as much time away from home as I can. My family kinda depresses me. Even Dave is on the road to nowhere fast. Him and my sister, Linda, are really lazy."

"Marty, I understand what we all go through in life sometimes," were Doc's next words and they stood out.

"Thanks Doc, I really mean that too," he said with feeling projected back. He felt already like he wanted to get to know this guy better. He had no idea what to say, though. Instead, he just stood there for a few seconds, looking down, thinking and waiting. Not long later, Doc did the talking for him.

"Marty, is everything alright?"

Snapping out of his slight trance, he stood up straight again. "What? Oh, yeah, fine, I was just thinking how glad I was to meet you. I'm hoping that doesn't sound sappy and all coming from one guy to another, but it's true."

Doc's reaction only solidified what Marty hoped was true. "Listen, no one should be ashamed to express themselves."

"You're probably right. I just gotta work on that a little. I better be going now," the teen said, bending over to pet the dog whom had helped chase Needles off. "See ya later, Einstein! It's been nice meeting you, Doc. Guess I'll, uh, see ya around."

"Pleasure making your acquaintance as well. I wish you, a farewell, Marty," the older man said. He began walking a happily barking and wagging Einstein toward home, staying out of the way of the customers rounding into the drive-thru.

Marty walked off in a little bit of doubt.

_See ya around? Yeah, that was real good, McFly. Could you have been a little less creative?_

Turning around to head past the new Future Glass shop (away from what would lead into downtown Hill Valley). He was suddenly glad for Needles and his annoying friends cornering him. If not for that, he might never have met this guy he inexplicably liked very much already. Next time he saw Doug Needles alone, he wasn't sure if he wanted to punch him or thank him.

As he got closer to his neighborhood a little more than a mile away, he turned to go into his favorite 7-11 near his Lyon Estates home. During the long, hot walk though, he was thinking hard about that chance meeting he'd just had, and just about life. Just before going in the store, he got a certain feeling he couldn't explain to anyone, including himself. Somehow he just knew something in his life would be changed forever now, probably for the better.

Unbeknownst to him, at this moment, Emmett Brown felt the exact same way too.


	2. Later in the Evening

June 30th, 1982.

4:35 PM.

_Wee-uuu-weee-uuuu_ went the yellow creature on screen, as it appeared to disintegrate.

"D-mnit!" yelled Marty McFly. "I was up to level 6 too, the 3rd act!" he continued talking out loud to himself, as he often did. Sitting in front of the Pac Man machine at the 7-11, he lightly punched the side of it with his left hand, to illustrate a bit of frustration. Ever since this machine had been installed a year or so before, it had been one of the young teen's favorite things to do. It was easy, too, being only half a mile or so from his home.

Atari systems were the hot item of the past couple years, but there was no way his mother would buy him one, or would even let him buy his own. She claimed they were a mindless brain waste, and that 'boys should make their own entertainment outdoors.' Even though George wouldn't know how to play if his life depended on it, he had no objections to them, but was practically his wife's fourth kid, and wouldn't dream of going against her wishes. Dave liked them, but was too lazy to buy one of his own, and Linda thought they were 'stupid guy things,' so that pretty much ruled out ever being able to have gaming entertainment at home, thus explaining why he hung out there all the time.

As much as he wanted to stay there and play until the sun went down, he glanced up at the store clock, and knew he had to be heading home now. "Hey, thanks for the extra quarters, Dick. I'm headin' home before mom goes off on me," he said as he crossed the store and looked behind the desk before turning to the front doors.

"Oh yeah, anytime, Marty. So, how far did ya get today?" cheerfully asked the full-time clerk, 32 year-old Dick Wilson. He was a person who looked a little dangerous from first glance: he had a stubbly black beard with a slight beer belly and greasy long hair. His vocabulary and initial appearance seemed more like a 70s rock band or a biker than a retail clerk. Just a few seconds of talking to him, however, made it clear he was actually a really nice, jovial guy who probably would never even start a fight.

"Up to Level 6, before the stupid dorks cornered me. I can't believe it, I've never been to the 3rd act before," Marty said in a mix of excitement and disappointment.

"Whoa, man, you beat my record, I've never been past 5! I guess my problem is that I eat all the magical white dots first, then I'm had before I can finish the level off," the man said with a laugh.

Marty chuckled in return. "You'll get there someday, you're good at it too, man. I just with there was a slow motion thing for it. How many levels are there even on it? That's heavy, do they just keep going forever 'cause they know no one's gonna get that far anyway?" he asked, kidding. If there was one thing that could be said for Marty McFly at any age, it was that he had a sense of humor that was easily identifiable with.

"Geez, makes you wonder, huh?" continued the older guy, as he walked out from the counter with a price sticker, towards one of the small aisles near the direction of where the game machine was, but still focused on the teen. "Some guy the other week got up to Level 8. Past that, who in the hll knows?" he said as he put out a new price sticker, reading _Donuts: 45c**.**_

"Someday, someone will beat it, even if it ain't me," said Marty, half looking at his older acquaintance and half staring into space, wishing that it really was him who beat the game. Having George McFly for a father had, even by now, instilled this overwhelming desire to win and get ahead at even the simplest of things. "If I passed Jr. High, I can pass at a video game, huh?"

"Totally. When I was your age, I hated school, it's not like you're ever gonna use most of that stuff in real life, and what you do need, you can get information on by itself," declared the somewhat rebellious looking man.

"Yeah, at least high school is gonna be over, in only 4 years," Marty said, the last part with a little sarcasm, just as he heard the bell ring to announce a customer coming into the store. That brought him back to reality, realizing what time it was.

"Whoa, gee, I forgot how late it was. I'm getting home before mom blows another gasket. She had a lot to drink today too." Without his listener needing to even say anything, his nod of approval said it all, as if he totally agreed. He'd seen Lorraine Baines-McFly a few times too. "See ya later, Dick."

"Hey, take it easy, kid," Dick said, as he went back behind the counter to resume his daily work.

Marty exited the building in a jog, obviously in a hurry to get home. He trusted the convenience store clock more than his own watch for sure. Within the past year, he'd gone through two watches, not including this one. Either through a string of continuous bad luck or just not paying attention (probably both), he still was somehow oblivious to time. This Casio digital watch he had was holding up well, except for having a battery that seemed to like to stop at weird times, thus making it completely off-schedule sometimes. Marty had meant to get a replacement battery, but it wasn't exactly on the top of his priority list (which usually included rock, video games, and checking out girls - despite the fact, or maybe because they wouldn't go out with him).

It wasn't unusual for the teen to befriend and get along with older people like Dick Wilson better than his own peers at times. He figures since they had already been his age, so he could learn from them. However, they were young enough to still be cool. Emmett Brown, the approaching elderly man he had just met seemed to still tug at his brain as a large exception to that older rule. He never for a moment thought of him as a 'boring old man', or a 'grandpa' type to the least. He actually listened to Marty like he was a real person after barely meeting him, not to mention helped save him from the biggest jerks in school. He also just knew, call it an unnatural instinct, that he would definitely see him again, whether he planned to or not.

_I can't let anyone know I met him. Not yet, at least. I don't need mom having a cow on me._

Marty turned right, into Lyon Estates sweating in the summer sun, falling over the western skyline, but without showing a sign of going down. He was reminded of the time of year it was. All over, the young teen heard the sounds of little kids playing on the sidewalks or in their kiddie pools, as if they hadn't a care in the world. The older folks were having barbecues or backyard parties. It sure was a great time for most people. Marty wished he'd felt the same way as he stepped onto his driveway just in time to notice his mom, Lorraine, getting out of her brand new red Ford Taurus station wagon parked in the family's two-car garage.

"Heya, mom," he said averagely, as they noticed one another on the empty driveway.

"Hi, Marty, you're home in time, hon," she said warmly, but matter-of-factly.

Wasn't that the point? "Uh, yeah. So, how was work today?" he asked, only remotely caring, but it wasn't that easy for him to converse with his parents sometimes. They were, to him, genuinely boring and negative most of the time.

"Fine, but the same way it always is, just more typing, more phone calls to answer. Almost no money," the 44 year-old woman said sarcastically, but bitterly, not being that fond of her secretarial job. She wasn't a mean person at all, just a bit unhappy with her life. Her family, including Marty, knew she loved them and did her best, but she could be short-tempered and unpleasant, especially when she'd been drinking.

"Yeah, sorry, work is h-ll sometimes," he said, ready to change the subject. "So, is dad still at work?"

As they walked into the house, Lorraine continued, "No, but I called him and told him to stop at the store to get some things for dinner tonight 'cause I'm too tired. I'm gonna go lie down until they get here."

Marty took the liberty of actually shutting the front door, since he was in last. Just as he was about to turn the hall and go to his bedroom, something caught his attention. "Okay, I—whoa, wait! Mom, what do ya mean 'they'? Aren't Dave & Linda both here?" he asked, genuinely not knowing, since he never actually went into Burger King.

"Well, yeah, Dave wasn't called into work today like he thought he'd be, so he's here. Linda is out with one of her friends, but what I meant is that your father is going to be returning here with Biff after work," she said with a sigh, fully knowing how her son would react. That was one thing she had to agree with him on, since she sure didn't like that creep making unwanted rude or romantic gutter talk remarks about her ever since they were in Junior High School.

"Oh, Jesus Christ, not again," he rumbled, slapping his hand against the wall in disgust. "That dumb sh-thead's presence can turn a good day into a bad one. Why is he coming over, is it, like, not possible for him to go home or have dinner with his own loser friends?"

"Don't dare use that language in this house, Martin McFly," Lorraine said, pointing at him. "Save that for the locker room with other boys. I agree with you about Biff, God knows I don't like him one bit more than you do, but he works with your father. But we have to be nice to him, no matter how we feel about him. You don't want dad to get in trouble at work, do you?"

"Ah, I guess not."

Lightening up only a little, Lorraine continued, "Well, I should hope so. Besides, Biff is bringing the VCR back. He's finished borrowing them, so we can watch movies on tape again."

_Why are you treating this like it's no big deal?_ Marty couldn't help but to be annoyed at his mom's apparent lack of concern for this, as if it were an ordinary event. Well, it actually was, with them, at least. "I guess he couldn't spend $400 bucks to get his own," he mumbled under his breath as he went into his room and shut the door just lightly enough to not be called a slam.

With that, Lorraine went to pour herself a glass of Vodka as she typically did.

**…..**

5:20 PM.

George McFly made his way into Lyon Estates in his white '77 Plymouth Reliant. Even now, at only a half-decade old, was somewhat under maintained with balding tires, a worn-out paint job and a slow starter. The most notable thing, though, was it sure needed a tune-up like nobody's business. You could hear that thing coming from ten blocks away! His kids (Marty in particular) we're embarrassed to be seen riding in it.

George didn't have the easiest day himself. After getting off work at the bank where he was a loan officer, he had to stop at a Raley's supermarket near their workplace in Grass Valley, 9 miles west, at his wife's insistence. Not to mention, his pushy co-worker Biff Tannen, was following behind him.

Word had it that Biff might be promoted to supervisor with the work he'd been doing. That, of course, was largely George's own work that had gotten him there. Mr. McFly knew somewhere in his heart that was unfair, and couldn't stand the guy, but since he had pretty much known him and done his work their whole lives, he saw no point in complaining about it now. He had the mindset of _Better to be unhappy and quiet than to cause trouble and be disliked_.

Making the right turn onto his teeny bit uphill driveway, which curved to the right, George didn't bother to put the car in the detached garage, which had to be opened manually. It was too much trouble for now, so he just pulled over to the left side, close to the front door. Not long after getting out of the door, Biff's flashy green '73 T-Bird cut to an abrupt stop just past the driveway, with the front-right tire over the curb. This guy never was the best, or most careful driver in the world, that's for sure!

Decked out in plaid pants and a dark green cheap suit (which you got the feeling he only wore since he kinda had to), the large, somewhat goofy-but-threatening, athletic looking man briskly walked up his co-worker's driveway in time to meet him as he shut the driver's side door.

"McFly, the machine was great, go get it. It's on my front seat," he said, as he helped himself into the family's house as if it were his own. George knew they'd be less than pleased to see him make that entry, but couldn't bring himself to say anything in opposition.

"Well, okay, but it may take me a minute with these groceries and all."

Stopping at the screen door, Tannen turned around and said, "Hey, if you don't get it by the time I come out, I'm keepin' the thing. It's yours anyway; the store stuff can wait, can't it? I mean, if it ain't melted already in this weather, it won't be in another two minutes."

What a nice guy. NOT! You'd have to figure if he had the energy to use the thing as his own for a week, he'd be able to carry a 15-pound machine a few short steps into the house. But, Biff being Biff, wouldn't go a second out of his way for people, yet expected them to go miles out of their way for him. Quietly a little unhappy, but pushing his feelings down as always, George shuffled down the driveway, opened up his bully's passenger door to carry the family tape machine into the house.

At this time, Biff barged his way inside, to find Lorraine in the kitchen, looking as if she was beginning to prepare what they already had of their dinner-to-be, such as frozen macaroni and white rice. Having heard her husband's car a minute ago, she naturally assumed it was him at first. "Hey, G-oh, Biff it's you," she said, trying her best to sound cordial, however hard it was.

"Heya, Lorraine, lookin' good as always," he said, sounding like a wannabe middle-aged swinger.

_Yeah, go to h-ll, Biff!_ "Thank you, I do my best. Now, what did George get at the store?"

Biff entered the kitchen himself, looking around in their cabinets without asking. As he picked up a box of pancake mix, he answered, "Ah, yeah, whatever you wanted him to get, looks like he did. Some fruit, Corn Flakes, spuds, uh, I think more frozen stuff, and of course, his own brand of lite beer. You ever had that stuff, honey? One can barely gets me buzzed anymore; I guess Georgie is just a lightweight drinker," he ended with his teasing sounding trademark laugh.

The idea of picking up the frying pan she was currently looking at and knocking this goon over the head out cold - if for nothing more than to shut him up - was starting to look really tempting. She'd usually just do what she could to get along with him. Worse case scenario was that he'd stay for dinner and bug them. She could certainly put up with him for an hour or so. "Yeah, he sure doesn't drink half of what even I do," she replied to his last comment.

Before anyone could say anything else, George came in as planned, with the VCR. "Hey, Lorraine," he said softly, putting the machine on top of the TV for now. He'd set it back up later.

"George, please tell me you went to the grocery store, just like Biff said!" she demanded, not seeing any bags with him on the way in.

Going back for the front door, he reassured her, "Yes, don't worry, I stopped there, I just had to drop this off first. Everything you wanted, I-I, made sure to go through the whole list. I'll be right back."

Soon as he was no longer in earshot, Biff continued, "Gee, sure sounds like you got the run of the household, huh. I'll bet you've scared the pants off the guy before."

Choosing not to answer that directly, she just said, "I always took care of him in a way, ever since we met I guess." She couldn't believe she was more or less confiding in the guy she hated regarding her husband's lifelong weakness.

"Yeah, well, if I'd been knocked out by your old man's car, you think you woulda taken care of me too?" asked Biff a bit straightforwardly.

"I already knew you, I didn't know George, that's why I took that much care of him. Besides, he was so shy and so scared of girls, it was almost cute," she reminisced. "But, anything between us happened and was over when we were 12 years old, you know that."

Biff knew he wouldn't exactly be able to sweep Lorraine off her feet at this point in time, or ever, but he still was a little annoyed about that, as well as their one date all those years ago, at the end of their 6th grade. Ever since then, he'd always kept bothering her and acting like a possessive ex-boyfriend. He didn't quite know why he liked her more than any other girl, he just did. Just as he was about to talk, one of the back bedroom doors burst open.

"Son of a b-tch, I don't friggin' believe this!" shouted 19 year-old Dave as he quickly walked into the hallway.

"David, what have I told you about speaking that way, young man?" his mother scolded. "We have company, too, be nice."

"Yeah, yeah, whatever ma! Don't you know what happened? First of all, the schedule at BK said I was working this afternoon, but I get there for them to change it at the last second. Now, they call and ask if I can come after all. Can't they make their fat heads up?" the teen said with heavy sarcasm.

Before he even could see who this company was, it did the talking. "Hey, what the h-ll is the matter, kid? Just go to your greasy burger-flipping job and quit complainin'. Life s-cks sometimes, than you die."

His uniform in hand as he made his way into the refrigerator for a soda, Dave blasted, "For Pete's sake, I'm not in the mood for this and didn't ask you what you thought. Just stick a sock in it, Biff."

Any traces of joking were long gone. Even though Tannen was clearly a bit dumb and clumsy sometimes, one thing you did not want to do was make this guy mad. "Hey, I'm a lot older than you are, punk!" Biff declared, moving closer to the young man so as to appear threatening. "Didn't your nice mother here teach you not to talk to adults that way?"

About to go out the front door, he said, "Hey, I am one now too, so I can talk however I want to you. Plus, it's my house, not yours, jerk!" he declared, borderline slamming the door behind him.

Unbeknownst to him, Marty had been watching this whole thing through the crack in his bedroom door. He was for sure gonna be staying in here, so as not to deal with the nuisance. He was partially glad Dave at least told him off to an extent. "I'm not coming out there, no thank you," he said, lightly closing the door so he wouldn't be heard.

Meanwhile, Dave stormed down the driveway, clearly annoyed, just in time to see his dad.

"Oh, hi there, Dave. Is something the matter, son?"

His mood only improving a little, said, "Hey, nice seein' ya pop. Yeah, first of all, work called me in again after they said they didn't need me this afternoon, Next thing I know, Biff is in there telling me how to talk in my own house. I hate that moron!"

"Yes, I know he can be difficult. He's just a little short on temper because he's worried about that, uh, promotion he might get. Just try not to anger him, even if he is being rude, he'll have less to complain about," said George as he approached the house with a couple shopping bags.

"Yeah, I guess. Well, I'll be back about 11. Later, pop," said Dave as he jogged down the driveway toward the bus stop at the entrance to Lyon Estates.

Saying a quick good-bye to his son, George finally turned around and went inside. Lorraine noticed this time, however, he had two grocery bags. "Oh, George, so you got what I asked you to, right?"

He hoped she wasn't in a lousy mood. "Uhh, yeah, everything on the list," he said, unsure of himself.

"Well, our children need to learn some manners, don't you think, George?"

Before he could respond, Biff did for him. "McFly, your older son is a burger-flipping punk with an attitude problem. And I thought Marty was the worse one."

"I know Dave seemed unhappy, but it won't be for long. He just needs time to calm down," said George, as he went to turn the TV on. He'd connect the VCR later, but could hardly live without having the television on.

"Well, I'm outta here myself. McFly, make sure you do a good job on that report I gave you today. I'm up for a promotion soon, and I don't wanna miss out 'cause of you!" commanded Biff.

"I'll, uh, be sure to give it the best work I can, Biff," said George weakly but as sincere as he could.

"Yeah, neat writing helps too. Well, have a nice dinner, see you at work tomorrow McFly," called Biff as he walked through the kitchen, stopping to pick up the same box of Bisquick Pancake Mix he'd looked at earlier. Opening up the screen door, he said to himself, "I haven't had pancakes for awhile either." George clearly saw him doing that, but was too gutless to do anything about it.

He simply went to turn up the volume on this particular episode of _Leave it to Beaver._

_"Oh, now Beaver, we don't want you to be late to school today, do we, Ward?"_

_"Surely not, June. The boy has got to be on time, right Beav?"_

_"OK, guys, you're both right. I'm heading out on that school bus right now."****_

On-screen, the boy's mother continued, _"You also promise to ignore Eddie Haskell if he says anything silly to you, right?"_

_"Certainly!"****_

Looking at the simple family life comedy before him, George did what he often did watching television: a huge laugh. "Ah ha ha ha ha ha ha," he continued, sounding more than a little dorky, pointing to the TV set. His wife listened and looked on in remote disgust from the kitchen, where she'd begun preparing dinner. She loved this guy very much, but sometimes couldn't believe she was married to him. Down went another shot of Vodka!

**…..**

Marty stayed glued to his room as he often was at home. He didn't yet have a phone line, though, so sometimes he'd have to go out to the kitchen for that. For now, he was reading a _Rolling Stone_ magazine article on a newly popular artist named Huey Lewis. A few months earlier, their new album's debut single, "Do You Believe in Love" had been released. Marty quite liked the song, but somehow had never bought the album yet, fearing it wouldn't be as good as that single, which had been co-written by AC/DC producer Mutt Lange.

"If this review is even partly right, what do I got to lose by pickin' up the album? Me and the guys might even start playing that song," said Marty out loud. "I might just like this guy from now on."

He didn't know how right he was.

**…..**

6:00 PM.

"Everybody, dinner is ready!" called Lorraine from the kitchen.

A couple of unexcited "Yeah, coming" type answers were heard from Marty, Linda & George. Within seconds, Lorraine was serving that night's meal of mashed potatoes, a side of frozen macaroni & cheese, asparagus, and the main course: Hamburger Helper.

Linda trudged out into the living room, having arrived home just several minutes earlier, and looking less than excited. "Mom, why can't I just take dinner back to my room? Dave isn't even here, dad's busy and Marty is late," the 15-and-a-half-year old whined.

"Sweetie, I know David has to work, but the rest of us are here and should be able to sit down to a nice family meal together," she continued, placing napkins at all the plates "It would be nice if your father could help, but I'm used to doing this on my own now."

George faintly heard himself being mentioned. "Lorraine, do you need something? I'm-I'm sorry, but I'm just extremely busy now." That was clearly evident, since he seemed to even stop paying attention to the TV and was immersed in papers, writing like crazy.

"It's fine, George, but dinner is set now. You're not too busy to eat, are you?"

Looking at the clock nearby, he paused to think. "Well, maybe I can afford to take a break for awhile, but I really have to finish these and make them well-written. You know how important this promotion could be to Biff."

She considered arguing with him, but thought better of it. "You should work to get him demoted instead," she said quietly, sitting down. Just as she was getting ready to ream Marty for not showing up, he came out of his room at a quick pace.

"Hey, I'm here now, I didn't miss anything, did I?"

"Marty, just try to be here on time from now on. No, you didn't miss anything, other than me cooking and setting the table by myself as always."

Not liking the negativity, but he decided not to say anything of it and stay on their good side (especially if he wanted to bring up Doc in the recent future). He opened his can of Tab, simply saying, "Oh, hey, sorry, I would've come if you wanted. I was just trying to avoid the crazy man earlier."

Linda said, half condescendingly, "I didn't even have to be here to see that bozo Biff, but being out with the girls is just about as bad. If I have to listen to one of them go on about how many guys they're going with or anything, I'm gonna be sick. I can't get any of the guys I like to notice me. It's just these total nerds that make Anthony Michael Hall look like a soap opera hunk."

Lorraine dearly understood what she was saying (especially with the part about nerds!) but went about it another way. "Hey, honey, don't worry, you'll meet a nice boy someday, it's just not the time yet. You shouldn't worry about it so much. I didn't meet your father until a few weeks before I turned 18, and you're not even 16 yet."

"Hey, Linda, no girl will even give me a second look that way, except as this cute kid or something, so we're even," said Marty, though he usually didn't talk that much.

"Marty, what do you expect, you're 14 and look 10. Be glad they like you at all," snorted his sister mockingly.

"Actually, Linda is right, Marty. I know there are three teenagers living here, so it's hard, but you kids should try to keep your thoughts to yourself. Everybody has hormones, but you don't need to obsess about this subject matter all the time," Lorraine said, with only a shred of doubt.

She wasn't exactly following her own advice or thought pattern. Hardly a day went by that she didn't dream of asking out some guy in her office, or wondering what her life would've been like had she married a famous movie star, athlete, or heck, even a rock musician. Being married to a spineless man like George could have that effect, she supposed. That was all in the past, but she came to loath her children dating, fearing it could lead them into a similar situation. She loved them, unapparent as it may have seemed to them, and just wanted the best for them in the end. Better to be single than miserably married.

"I'm not tryin' to think about it, mom, but it's around me and in the world. I can't just, ya know, avoid it my whole life," chimed in Marty, but not in his typical upbeat, slightly overconfident nature. He really meant it, but he decided not to try and argue the issue.

"Marty, listen, I didn't mean to avoid it or to never want to interact with the opposite gender. I just meant we don't have to have it as dinnertime conversation," Lorraine said frankly.

That sounded reasonable enough to everyone, since it wasn't like anyone had a ton of friends over. George continued working on his papers, only a little aware of the conversation, but it just wasn't his style to join in, unless someone asked his opinion. He also didn't dare risk making his wife mad if he even hinted at opposing anything she said. She was basically head of the household, after all.

**…..**

7:45 PM

Emmett Brown was attempting to tidy up at least a little in his messy, cluttered living space which was now probably less than 2000 square feet. His former garage was nothing compared to his mansion, which once belonged to his family before being passed on to him.

"Great Scott! That will be the 20th anniversary of this unfortunate event this upcoming August 1st." The scientist spoke aloud in his energetic, slightly gravelly voice. His only company was Einstein, but having lived alone so many years, he had over time, developed the habit of talking not only to himself, but at fully conversational volume, when he was alone.

He had once been a part-time professor at the Hill Valley University, specializing in physics before retiring in 1977. Since then, he'd lived a relatively secluded life, despite having his home in a public parking lot. Recently, he'd gotten back into inventing all sorts of devices. There was one that would open cans of dog food and throw away the can, and many more things like that were all around his home now. He'd also been busy with _Dr. Brown's 24-Hour Scientific Services_, a handyman business he did on the side for five years and even had his own van for.

In the mid '50s, after a series of inventions continued to fail, he'd just given up on most of them. However, one of them had always remained close to his heart. The vision 27 years ago he'd had of time travel. On the side, he'd done extensive research on the theories, read countless books, and having his own job in that area didn't hurt things too much either. In all that time, he'd invested tons of money into it (too much, in fact, if he were to continue that much longer), he'd made progress in the academic area, but he still needed more. Specifically, he needed something he could use as a time machine, and had no idea how to do it, at least not yet. He didn't know how, but sometime soon, he promised himself he would.

A loud bark from Einstein broke the silence of the summer evening, catching the inventor's attention.

"Oh, Einy, I haven't been paying you enough attention, have I?" he said, quickly leaving his papers on the small coffee table near his old jukebox to pet the animal as it wagged its tail in return. "I'm on the way out to Burger King for a little snack, but I'll be back within 10 minutes, okay, boy?"

Somehow, Doc seemed to be able to teach every dog he'd had to have a fairly good understanding of English words. He received another bark in return, as if to say 'Don't leave me out'.

"I can't give you human food, Einy, but let's go get you some of your own, specified completely for canines such as yourself," he said, as Einstein followed without thinking again.

The machines weren't turned on for the moment. He only did that when he was gone for a lengthy time. He didn't want to waste energy while he was already home anyway. Manually opening a can of Alpo, and getting a bowl of fresh tap water, he set both down, which could hardly be set up fast enough for the dog to begin getting into. Soon as Doc could see that, he grabbed his wallet and skipped out the front door. Exiting the gate, he was going on another venture to the fast food restaurant he must've gone to at least once every day or two. It was practically his second home now. He'd even get discounted meals on many occasions, especially after befriending several of the employees.

The sun was still in the sky, only beginning to show any sign of getting dark on this, the nearly longest day of the year. It was, in fact, very comfortable here right now as Emmett went inside the restaurant. Amazingly, it was not terribly busy, at least not in line. The tables were another story. Entering the big puzzle-like maze of railings that made up the line, the scientist stepped up ready to place his order as he was recognized.

"Yo, Brown, what's goin' on, huh?" called Dave in a considerably better mood than he'd been in when he left home. "The usual?"

"Hi there Dave. Sure, might as well, if I like it on a typical basis, I figure why should I change it now?" he said almost jokingly.

"Oh yeah, totally, man," said Marty's brother as he continued into the loudspeaker microphone attached to the counter. "Number 3 with a Diet Sprite, it's Doc!" he called, a little too loudly as always.

Doc wanted to tell the young man about his little brother whom he'd had a very positive meeting with earlier in the day, but wanted to wait for the right time. If there was a crowd of hungry, rushed customers behind him, that would clearly not be it. To ease confusion, he decided to ask, "David, do you by any possibility have a break coming up in the near future? There was just something I wanted to tell you about earlier today."

"Sure thing, I was just gonna ask Mr. Smith for one anyway. Soon as your food comes, I'll go outside with ya."

Sure enough, a few minutes later, after saying a quick hello to the whole crew, his order of a Double Whopper without any ketchup or mustard, onion rings, and a Diet Sprite arrived. He and Dave McFly went just outside as promised for a moment.

"So, Doc, what's on your mind?"

Digging into his onion rings first and sitting on a nearby plastic chair, Doc began, "Oh, well, actually something I never thought would happen. I actually met your younger brother, Marty this afternoon, under the most precarious and unusual circumstances imaginable. Has he told you yet?"

"Whoa, that's amazing. Nah, he never coulda told me. I was sleepin' in this afternoon when they suddenly called me into work! Anyway, I didn't hear Marty come back, and I left before I saw him. I doubt he'd tell anyone yet. Our mom wouldn't take it too well."

"I've heard the same from his point of view as well," said Doc, not surprised. "Well, basically Marty was being cornered by some hooligans from school – Douglas Needles and his dimwitted friends – when I intervened at the right time. Turns out the kid and I had an almost instant bond, despite our quite large age difference."

"Hey, that's really nice, good going with that," Dave said, actually meaning it. It was hard to tell sometimes, since he'd often have sarcasm twice as bad as his younger brother.

"Thank you. In any event, I've long been considering getting an assistant. I literally have thousands of things I need sorted and cleaned up around my place. To the point, if I see the kid again, I may just ask him if he'd like to assist me in some way. Would that be too sudden or inappropriate?" he asked with concern.

"Oh, I'd say it's gonna be fine. I'm sure he'd like to get some money, plus he wants to get his a-s out of that house as much as possible. I don't blame him. It's really cramped there. Mom & my sister are always complaining about something. I mean, I love 'em, but it still gets annoying after awhile," Dave confessed, but realized he was drifting off the topic. "But, anyone Marty's ever been friendly with has been cool, ya know? Maybe I oughta break the news to him tomorrow or somethin'."

"That sounds logical, Dave," said Doc, before realizing there were tons of people entering the place.

From the door emerged a middle-aged man who looked casual in real life, yet a very serious on the job guy. Emmett remembered him to be the manager, whom he'd met on a couple occasions. "Hey, Dave, sorry to interrupt, but there's a huge line and we need you back on register," he said.

"Oh yeah, Smithy, no problem," said Dave, turning his attention to see the older man. "Gotta go, see ya soon Doc," he went with a wave and a dash inside.

"Hiya Dr. Brown, haven't seen you for quite some time," said John Smith, the manager of this location.

Shaking the man's hand back quickly and with a friendly greeting, Doc said, "Ah, yes, Mr. Smith, how are you this evening?"

"Really nice. You should stop by more often, especially in the mornings, that's when I'm usually present."

"I'll certainly take that into consideration, even though I have a tendency to be a morning sleeper at times," he said as he slowly walked back toward his garage. "Have a nice night."

"You too," said Mr. Smith as he joined his employee back inside.

Emmett Brown slowly walked back toward his home, weaving through the now-filled parking spots out front. Usually they were empty unless it was unusually busy, like tonight. He casually happened to notice one car pull in on the far end of the row. The engine cut, and a 40-something man came out, almost certainly heading into the BK. Doc didn't think anything of it until the man said something to him.

"Still showin' your face around here, Dr. Brown? Don't you know what this town thinks of failures like you? Nothing you invented works, you're jobless and even burned your own house down," came the heartless voice as it disappeared (with the man it belonged to) into the restaurant before the scientist could hardly respond.

Somewhere inside him, he wanted to grab the guy and punch his lights out, but quickly reconsidered. He always felt that fighting was the wrong thing to do, unless there was no other choice. It would be from time to time he would still get comments like that from people around town. Most people were nice enough to him, or at least stayed out of his way, but all in all he had become some kind of recluse in comparison to others, especially after retiring from teaching. By this time in his life, he'd become so used to the insults that he almost would expect them on occasion. That didn't make it feel any better, though.

Opening up the fence-like door that led into his property, he stopped to think about himself for a minute.

_Of all the lives whose thoughts I've apparently tainted, how many have I improved? My students at the University, most likely, people I've assisted in my new business, my family by nature. Of course, Marty!"_ he thought back again to just a few short hours ago as he'd taken Einstein out for a neighborhood walk. The way his life was then, compared to how it would be within 10 minutes later. The acquaintance he'd made in a slang speaking, rock and roll loving teen may have been highly improbable and unlikely, but no matter, it had still happened.

He marveled at how he'd seemed to connect so well to the teen, much better than people who were close to his own age. He didn't quite know how it would turn out in the future. He always had to assume Marty, upon getting a little older, may find going to parties or on dates with girls far more appealing than spending time working on some invention with a near senior citizen. Maybe he'd go away to college, or later than that, he'd even start his own family and they'd be sure to drift apart by then. He, however, decided to stop before his thoughts raged out of control and take it one day at a time.

As if to answer himself on the matter, as well as a fitting adage for his long-running project, he said something he felt only appropriate.

"Time will tell."


	3. Doc Comes Home

Thursday, July 1st, 1982.

8:00 AM.

George McFly, already dressed in his white work shirt and tie, furiously began looking over the final notes of his reports to be turned into Biff this morning. This was something he did around once a week at least, but this time was even more important than before, due to his co-worker's upcoming possible promotion. That, combined with the family planning to leave on a short vacation for the upcoming holiday had George not really minding to do it.

Seeing a couple figures that looked questionable, the middle-aged man ran them through his calculator on the table. Just as he put the finishing touches on what he had, over time, fooled himself into thinking was a nice favor, he heard a loud kick at the door before the figure simply walked in.

"McFly, it's me," called Biff himself, not angrily but somewhat loud. "My junker won't start, so you gotta take me to work," he said, making his way over to the glass jellybean jar near the entryway, helping himself to one.

A little surprised, but now used to these often unannounced, impromptu visits, George got remotely nervous as he rose from the dinner table, adjusting his glasses. "Uh, good morning, Biff. I-I was just looking over the work you wanted me to do. I took some, some extra time with it as well," he improvised, hoping to do anything to cheer the large man up at all.

"Oh, that's good, McFly. I should hope so. Well, you doin' anything extra before we go, or are we set?" he asked, even though it was more of a command.

Just as George was about to speak a response, one of the hallway doors opened, to which Marty emerged from. The teen was just intending to grab a morning snack before heading out.

It was really unusual for him to be up this early, especially with no school, but due to his tiring day yesterday, he'd fallen asleep early. He was extremely looking forward to meeting his new, older friend again by the Burger King at noon today. It had been one of those things he literally had a hard time waiting for. Even though it was still four hours early, he figured he'd just hang around somewhere to pass the time. He could pop into 7-11 to retry his hand at Pac Man again and have a word or two with Dick; maybe the mall when they opened at 9AM. He knew he could find something to do, he always was independent that way, and didn't exactly consider hanging out at home to be very pleasurable. Especially when he saw who he was about to face.

_Jesus Christ! I tried so hard to avoid him yesterday. Great, just perfect, look how far that got me. Please, a—hole, just be here and gone fast_ he thought, beginning to turn right, toward the living room, for the long route to the kitchen. As he walked, he managed to give Tannen, now right in front of him, an unfriendly stare.

"Cat got your tongue, butthead?" called Biff, as Marty momentarily stopped.

Feeling in a slightly better mood than usual, and not wanting to make this bozo mad, he just offered a simple, "Heya Biff. Didn't see ya," as he passed.

Hearing the man mumble something under his breath, Marty simply moved along his way as his father said, "Son, Biff and I are heading off to work at the moment. I'll be home tonight."

"Yeah, see ya dad," said Marty, not really caring to put much thought into it. Not only had he grown further apart from his parents over time, but he figured the less he said, the quicker Biff would be the h-ll out of the house. As he went about making himself some simple cereal, Biff and his father were heading out the door.

"Biff, how long do you think your car will be out of service for?" asked George as they both left through the front door.

"Depends if I need someone to look at the rotten thing. The d-mn alternator might be out again, so who knows, probably a couple days," said Biff in his typical, slightly tough yet joking drawl.

Marty could faintly hear the conversation through the screen door. Just as George went around to get in the car, he heard Biff say, "Let me drive, McFly, I wanna make a couple stops. Maybe get some early morning beer, haha."

Without offering so much as a simple question why, his father stopped and changed his direction. "Well, uh, okay, I suppose that won't be a problem," he said in his usual wimpy, slightly nasal voice, gesturing his hands somewhat awkwardly, as if he were on the verge of laughing for no reason.

_Yeah, and if he asked you to go the wrong way up o one-way street, you would, right?_ Marty sighed a little angrily as he was pouring the milk for his Frosted Flakes, which he intended to eat fast and skip out before his mom woke up. Sometimes he even questioned himself for exuding so much energy over situations like this, knowing no amount of hoping or even talking would change the situation. His father was a total cowering wimp, enough said.

_I'm never gonna be like him. Ever!_

8:45 AM

Emmett Brown was looking over his continuously failing experiment: The Flux Capacitor. He didn't know what, of anything, he could possibly wire it to (and his house was a mess from trying)! He had recently even hooked up his own time circuits he had rigged up, controlled by use of an old telephone dial numbers. It took an eternity, but he had programmed every year with 4 digits (9999 B.C. to 9999 A.D.) into it, as well as the months and days. It was even complete enough to make a cool, remotely unique double beeping noise when a date was entered.

Despite all this, he began to wonder if it all was even worth it anymore. Just because it was programmed didn't mean it could work. How would he ever crisscross it to coordinate with the flux capacitor? Recently he really was having his doubts. However, given the events of yesterday and that truly eventful meeting with one Marty McFly, it was almost like he had a sudden new spark to life. He was a tiny bit nervous about where their relationship – if it even would exist at all – would go from here.

_I still have a great displacement in my own feelings. I reacted too fast. You can't just offer some kid a job out of nowhere, that's an incredulously unorthodox thing to have suggested, Brown. I'll be d-mned if he doesn't now suddenly get nervous of the offer and think what some other people in town do. Although he sure seemed to want to come to work today, plus his brother appears steadfast in his own confidence it will work out._

For the time being, he was going to leave the house for awhile. Knowing him, there would still be time to get any parts of his experiments he didn't want Marty seeing, relating to the time machine, out of the way. Nothing remotely against Marty, but he wouldn't really want anyone to see anything of that nature before its completion. Heck, even he himself, a scientist open-minded to many, many things the average person would not be, would've (if he'd encountered anything that illuded to a time machine, especially before 1955) thought it was, at best, the work of a brilliant daydreamer. At worst, someone who was living dangerously too far in a fantasy world.

Just a few weeks ago, he had finally sold his '53 Packard. It was really hard for him to part with that old car he'd had for so many years, but even with his exceptional care with machinery, it was beginning to get a bit old. Since then, he'd been using his work van as a double for his own personal car. Since he owned both, that wasn't a problem, but still, it would be nice to have something to go to the store in which didn't advertise his services as if he were a pool cleaner! Even at his age, that could be slightly embarrassing if he just had to get milk or something.

Even though _Dr. Brown's 24 Hour Scientific Services_ was basically just an all day handyman's services with things such as electronics as well, he also did extra things on the side with it. For instance, he could make a customer's TV set go louder with certain special tinkerings.

That aside, he was going to Statler Toyota in downtown Hill Valley, which also had a large selection of used vehicles. Not just Toyotas either. He had gone there last week to look over a few models. He'd already done most of the paperwork for purchasing a '74 Chrysler Lebaron with only 20,000 miles on it. The previous owner had just painted it and installed a brand new stereo system in it, along with several other fixer-uppers. What only he knew, though, was that this was going to be the vehicle he would try to install the flux capacitor and time circuits into.

Normally he'd have driven to the lot, but it was a nice day and he assumed the least he could do was get a little bit of exercise, so he decided to take the approximately 3 mile walk.

"Oh, Einy, just going out for an hour or two. I have strong anticipation of driving back here in a new car," he said, petting the collie as he barked lovingly in return. It was strangely as if he understood the words his master was speaking.

With that, the scientist was out the door in the already almost hot summer sun for the brisk walk to the other side of town. Before long, his speed picked up as he had no trouble keeping the pace up. At 62 years old, he was in very good shape for a man his age. Just from the looks of it, it would be hard to tell he was only three years away from the technical retirement age. He had the energy of a 32 year old, at least.

9:00 AM

Marty walked out of the 7-11 store near his home with his skateboard in hand, again a bit disappointed in his Pac Man score. He only got to Level 4 this time, before again getting cornered without any big blue dots left. Having been out of quarters, he left without staying long at all, especially since Dick wasn't there – who usually worked in the evening. Instead the guy on duty that morning was a rather unhappy seeming old man (old in actions, at least. But he was old both ways to Marty, possibly around 55). This was the kind of guy you almost had to wonder why they worked in customer service if they seemed to hate people; a semi paradoxical idea.

This man, in fact, was Dick Wilson's total opposite in many ways. He looked nice from the onset, but was a grump when you spoke to him on many occasions. Just a brief ten or so minutes earlier, as Marty was reloading the machine with his last quarter, Mr. Smith had come over to him to demand, "Kid, are you gonna buy something or just rot your brain on that silly machine?" The teen wondered if he'd subconsciously lost that final game on purpose as an excuse to get out of there.

He took a short hike back to Route 395. This was now a suburban, semi busy road, unlike the desolateness in this area back a mere 25 years ago. He wanted to head to the Twin Pines Mall, almost a mile and a half away but didn't want to board it in the hot sun. He waited for a while for the right car to drive by before implementing a trick he called 'car-surfing'. A ratted up Ford truck drove by heading east rather slowly, giving the young teen just enough time to grab its back bumper.

Marty had been taught how to do this a couple years ago, courtesy of some high-school guys Dave knew. It was a dangerous trick if one wasn't careful. He often worried about doing it, especially at higher speeds, and/or with any cars that might turn. The lesser worries, of course, came with being spotted by other drivers who might report it. He surely didn't want his parents to know! Though he second-guessed its safety and getting caught sometimes, he decided to stay on the vehicle. The last thing he wanted to do would be to wimp out. That would make him feel too much like his father for comfort.

Being careful yet enjoying the really quick ride, the truck breezed past JFK Drive before slowing down at a corner, where Marty cut his own speed and held on tighter, crouching down more to gain balance, as well as not be seen by the driver. He could see the right-hand orange turn signal on. He jumped off, just before the vehicle began its turn. Luckily it had been early in the morning still, so there weren't too many people out and about in this area.

After only a few minutes of regular speed skating, he made it down the entryway to the large mall. Being still only ten minutes after 9, there weren't exactly a lot of people there – most of them likely consisting of employees. He couldn't believe this place used to be a huge farm at one time. He could vaguely recall when the mall was constructed to its present form in 1973, when he was 5 years old. Even before then, though, it had been an outdoor strip mall. _Whoever lived at this farm must be really old._ he couldn't help but think to himself.

Because he didn't spot any kids hanging out here yet (as they often did), he wasn't quite sure what he wanted to do yet, but he'd come up with something. He had quite a bit of saved up allowance money with him, as well as anything he could make by cleaning neighbors' yards and the like. He considered maybe getting some new tapes at the Musicland store, or just going to read a magazine at the bookstore. Heck, even being able to walk in the still practically empty hallways of the mall would be more fun than being at home.

9:30 AM

Doc approached the Statler dealership in the town square in a bright Hawaiian shirt, only a little bit tired out by his morning walk. He was glad to get to drive on the return trip, though. Walking through the extensive lot of cars, he could understand why this was such a happenin' place. It was Hill County's largest car dealership, and the next nearest one was in Grass Valley. Making his way past all the shiny new and used vehicles, he entered the building's double glass doors. He approached the customer service desk when he saw a woman he recognized. She had dyed blonde hair and was in her late 20's (but probably could've passed for a high school student, or at least under 21, if she really wanted to).

"Oh, hello, good morning. I remember you from last week, I believe," he offered, friendly enough.

Looking up, the young woman said happily, "Hey, Doc Brown, how are ya? You here to pick up the LeBaron?"

"Quite certainly. You know, it's going to be strange not having my old Packard anymore. I am just now beginning to wonder if selling it was the feasible choice or not," he said, recalling the conversation he'd had with her recently.

"Hey, don't worry about it. The guy who bought it seemed like a collector. I'm sure he'll take care of it. Just one minute," she said, picking up a white office phone at her desk, dialing a couple numbers. "Jim, Mr. Brown is here about the '74 Lebaron."

"Oh, thanks. But you can just call me Emmett. Mr. Brown is so formal," he replied, more comfortable now.

"OK, I prefer knowing people on a first name basis anyway." It was an early hour, so there was more than enough time for a chat. "Anyway, sounds like you had a lot of memories in that car, huh? I wish they still made cars like they did in the 50's. I mean, hey, today's stuff rocks too, but I like older cars. In fact, I like a lot of things older," she said, looking right at him.

He enjoyed talking with people, so he had no problem sharing these things. He enjoyed when anyone took an interest in him. "Well, why don't we just say it wasn't quite as memorable as it may have seemed, despite all the years of ownership it has had. In almost 30 years time, I don't believe it went more than 200 miles from this very town. Plus, it was only on occasion that people would ride in it with me, so I was, typically speaking, the vehicle's only occupant."

"Really? You mean you're not married or anything?" she asked, smiling, almost as if she knew what the answer was already. "Oh, I'm sorry, I know that's none of my business," she said, apologizing.

"Ah, not to worry, it's quite alright. It's not every day that I go into detail about my life. No, I'm afraid I've never been married. I suppose being a lifetime workaholic, especially with scientific endeavors has taken its unfortunate toll on me in a few ways. I also am a town handyman on the side."

Just at this moment, the 30-something salesman, Jim, he spoke with last time came out of a back office approaching the scientist.

"Howdy Emmett. How ya doin' this morning?"

"Pretty good. Nice seein' ya, Jim."

"Great. Hey, do you wanna take her on another test drive before she's yours? That one we we tried doin' before had to be cut short 'cause of all the rush hour traffic."

He stopped to think for a moment, scratching his head. Normally he would, but he really wanted to run a couple errands and get back in time to tidy up before Marty arrived. "Oh, I think it will be just fine in any case. I would take that into consideration if I didn't have plans soon after this."

The nice man understood. "Oh, hey, I'm with ya on how that is. Well, there's just a little more paperwork we have to do first then."

As the scientist was about to follow him over, he turned back to the woman he'd just been speaking with.

"Well, I think I'll be going, but it was nice conversing with you this morning," he said, as she seemed to agree with that. He continued, "Also, to think I can recall exact distances and things of that nature, I'll be d-mned if I haven't forgotten your name," he said, laughing a little at his own expense.

"Oh, it's Alexis, but you can just call me Alex. Hey, I forget things like that so often, so it's cool," she said. "Have a nice day Emmett."

"You too, I need to get going. Have a very nice day," he said, walking over to a table with Jim.

Within 20 minutes, his business was finished as he was given the keys to his new dark green LeBaron. He had to head to a Radio Shack, of all places, to pick up some electronic equipment he needed. What better way to break it in than to do some shopping in her? Looking around the interior again, and noticing it was in practically new shape for its age, he turned the ignition on and happily drove away.

9:45 AM

Marty sat at the food court of the mall alone, checking out a couple magazines he'd just gotten from the bookstore and finishing up his breakfast from the mall's McDonald's. It wasn't very busy in comparison to how it would typically be, but he was still surrounded by people, mostly teenagers a little older than him. Many were buddies hanging out, or couples. Marty sighed, he hated being alone in these kind of surroundings. _What kinda guy do they think I am here all alone? They probably think I'm a loser, just like my old man. Sure, me and the guys coulda come here, but with the way things are goin' I'm not gonna be coming here with a girl till I'm 25._

No sooner had all those thoughts left his mind, he coincidentally turned around and recognized a familiar face heading his way, coming from the food counter.

"Yo, Marty! What's goin' on, dude?" called an acquaintance named Edward, a fellow soon-to-be high-schooler from his 8th grade class.

"Hey Ed, not much. This is the only place that's open, man, but it's too quiet around here," Marty said, gesturing around him to the tables, which were starting to be vacant again, as the older teens began walking around the rest of the mall.

"Yeah, I know. So hey, how does it feel to be free from H.V. Middle School finally?"

"If I don't see that place again until my own kids go there, I'll be happy," Marty happily declared. "But, I've heard stories about high school, and I dunno if I'm feeling too hot for that either. Especially Mr. Strickland, the vice principal. Dave graduated last year and he hates the guy. My sister does too."

"Yeah, that big baldie practically gets mad at everybody from what I hear. He calls people slackers too," his classmate said, before continuing, "Hey, do you mind if we sit here?"

"We?" Marty questioned, having been so preoccupied with thought, combined with just flat out not paying attention (probably a trait he got used to doing in boring classes at school!) he failed to notice Edward's female partner with him. "Uhh, yeah, sure, go ahead," he said, suddenly rather nervous.

"Oh, hey, sorry if I didn't say somethin' earlier, this is Claudia, we started going out a week or so ago."

Marty managed a weak, "Hey," as he introduced her back. "This is Marty from my math class. This guy has even got his own band, they're pretty knarley, I'll tell ya."

"Thanks man, I try my best, even if I can't hold a note as good as Steve Perry," said Marty, a little more comfortable now that he had a subject to talk about (one he liked, no less). He was extremely uncomfortable around girls, and this appeared to be no exception.

Just as he seemed to relax a little, his friend had to say something. "Claude, I'm gonna go call my parents, I forgot to tell 'em something. I'll be totally fast. You and Marty can talk, be back in a sec."

Claudia just said, "Yeah, okay."

_No, geez, not now!_ This was exactly the kind of situation he dreaded. Though he was confident quite often - sometimes, even a little too much, causing him to get into trouble - he was pretty uneasy with talking to an attractive girl, not to mention alone! It's not like he was gonna try and ask her out, but it was still the general idea of it. He still decided to try his best to go along with it.

"Hey, so how long have you and Ed known each other for?" she broke the ice.

"A couple years now, since 7th grade started. Yeah, I think that's right. 7th grade," he continued, repeating himself needlessly as he slightly buried his face in his hands. Seconds seemed to pass like hours right now.

"So, you gonna be hangin' out here for awhile? We will be, this place is rad!"

_Alright, calm down, McFly, just have the typical conversation you'd have if she were a guy. Just think of somethin' to say, man!_ Marty's nerves raced a bit, as he told the exaggerated truth. "Yeah, for awhile. I've got enough saved up to spend. Besides, anything to get away from the house. School is out, my parents are the most boring people on the face of the Earth, plus it's a million degrees out."

"I just gotta babysit some obnoxious little kids and I've got enough for a week," said Claudia. It seemed to go easier on her end of things. "By the way, everybody says that about their parents. Mine are, like, so strict with me. I'm sure yours aren't so bad. I mean, Edward's are pretty cool for their age, anyway."

Still keeping his head partly down, and/or looking not directly at her, Marty continued, "Yeah, but, but y-you don't know my parents. I, well, ya know," he elaborated, meanwhile stuttering and repeating himself again. "Mom practically still wants to hold my hand while I'm crossing the street. That's heavy."

"No offense, dude, but you are kinda short," Claudia said, giggling. Marty looked like he was devastated by that seemingly harmless comment. Luckily, for him, it had no time to continue. "Hey, I'm jokin' with ya," she said, patting him on the arm for a moment, which made him flinch, albeit forgetting the height comment for the moment. "Were you an only child or something? Maybe that's why."

It was apparent she hadn't paid attention to the boys' conversation closely enough. "I've actually got a sister and brother a few years older, so no, we've ruled that out," he said matter-of-factly. _Edward, what's keepin' you? Just the h-ll off the phone, and hurry up, get back here so I can relax!_

"Oh, well, what's the worst thing, the most embarrassing thing your parents ever did with you? For me, it's gotta be when my dad dropped me off at school a couple weeks ago in front of my friends. Not only did he have to make a scene out of talking to me all loud, but he had Elvis playing. I mean, that's everything short of announcing 'I'm old'! I mean, gag me."

Now that music came back into the equation, Marty suddenly had a visible change in demeanor. "Yeah, that would get to me too. My parents would do that kinda thing without even having any idea it was embarrassing to a normal person. Dad's just a little nerdy, but mom's more loud and the rule setter. Just one thing, though, Elvis rocks! Come on, I know his music is old, but that was the first rock and roll stuff out."

Sensing the change in him, Claudia observed, "Man, you're really into music, aren't ya? Okay, Elvis is kinda cool, but still, I guess it's that my parents aren't into MTV or anything new. New meaning after 1970. They don't, ya know, _not_ like it, but I tried tellin' them it's probably gonna be huge in a year or two. Especially New Wave. I mean, I love listening to that stuff 'cause synthesizers are just so in right now, but they're not listening."

"I guess I can see that. Dad is okay with it, just unhip, but mom is one of those types that thinks rock and roll and anything else like that is harmful. It's like she's a nun."

Claudia laughed in agreement before changing the subject. "Hey, you're a funny kid. You just seem like a natural that way. So, where exactly were you going here again? Just wonderin', cause we're gonna go see _E.T._ It's been out a couple weeks. I haven't seen it and everybody else at school has. Edward already went to it when it came out, but he's going with me anyway, isn't that sweet?"

_A funny kid? That's what I always hear, but she's my age, why am I a kid to her? Just cause I'm short, huh?_ Marty thought of her earlier comment. "Yeah, sure, he's a nice enough guy from what I've seen," he said with the teeniest bit of jealousy. He hoped against hope, someday he could do something that would make a girl say that about him. Before he could think any more about that, his friend returned from the phone booth.

"Hey, it's cool now, I just called home," he replied, sitting down next to his date and opposite from Marty, getting into his food for the first time. "We still got over half an hour till the movie starts at 10:25. Marty, you wanna come with us?"

Normally, he'd have agreed faster than you could say _go_, but today he remembered how important his meeting with Doc was. He wasn't quite sure if he wanted to tell them about the sixty-something man he'd befriended the day before. Heck, he didn't even know how well received something like that would be by his best friends, The Pinheads, whom he usually referred to as 'The Guys.' Instead, he made a phony excuse up, as he often did. "Uh, yeah, geez I'd love to, but I kinda gotta be somewhere at Noon. I'm helping someone I know," he stopped mid-sentence, slowing down a bit, "err, clean up their house."

So it wasn't a total lie, but still.

"Before the Cineplex opens, we were just gonna go to Musicland. I know you've probably got some hot new stuff you wanna pick up, right," Edward teased him a little, almost thinking he had to say yes to that.

"No kidding, guys, I was goin' there anyway. Good call!"

Less than 15 minutes later, the three young teens were inside the mall's music retail store. Much in style of the times, there were records and LPs lining quite a few aisles of the somewhat large store, more towards the front. They were reducing in prices in recent history, with a large sign announcing _All LPs tagged at 9.99, now reduced to 7.99. Sale through the July 4th weekend._ The back walls had sales of posters and T-shirts. In the corner area to the right was a small section for 8-track tapes, a now dying format.

Marty only bought a few of those in his life, after they'd all been eaten, he decided to stick to tapes and LPs. In the row off to one side, there was also a large section of VHS tapes. Marty was the first to notice that.

"Check it out guys. Videos for only 30 bucks. Can't beat that, huh?" replied Marty in excitement. "Not that I can watch 'em on that little black and white piece of cr-p TV in my room, but still."

"I bet someday we're all gonna be laughing at those prices," came Edward's future-minded reply, as he and Claudia went straight back toward the second half of the store, where there were a few rows of cassettes, now the main listening source.

Marty said "Yeah," as he, for the meantime, looked over the rack of 45' singles near the register. Because they were only 50 cents, and he liked a lot of individual songs he didn't want to buy the full album of, he grabbed nearly a dozen before going to join his mates in the cassette section.

"So, did you guys come to get anything, or you dunno yet?" he asked them as he scanned down the A's, going in alphabetical order, as he commonly did in case something caught his eye he hadn't thought of.

"Just the new Toto album for sure," called Edward. "I would get Sammy Hagar, but I don't really got enough. Besides, I don't think any more singles are comin' off _Standing Hampton_, so that counts 45's out."

"Hey man, I was gonna pick that up for sure. I'll let ya borrow it in the meantime," Marty said, still half lost in thought, looking everything over like there was no tomorrow.

"Cool, dude, thanks," said his male companion, as they all continued looking around. Awhile later, as everyone had decided on what they were getting, the three teens headed to the register. Marty went first, since he was getting the most stuff. Along with the eight 45' singles he'd decided to get, he had three cassettes too, including the aforementioned Sammy Hagar one.

"Hey," amiably said the clerk behind the counter, a guy probably no less than five years older than they were, clearly someone hip with the times. He was even sporting a Flock of Seagulls type haircut and just looked like a rock fan.

"How's it goin'?" said Marty casually, as the guy began ringing up his stuff. Before long, he had a casual question. "Just wonderin', my friend here is getting Toto's _IV_," he said, pointing slightly behind him to Edward's direction. "What do ya think the next hit is gonna be off it? Rosanna is huge, can't top that."

"Good question, dude," the older teen said, obviously in heaven being able to talk about stuff like this at work. "They'll probably want a ballad, so maybe 'I Wont Hold You Back'. If you ask me, though, 'Africa' should be a single. I think that would rock."

Marty had a sudden realization, as if that was entirely true. "Yeah, it would. It's got a beat and you can dance to it, but being last on the album can't help."

Not long after, the threesome left the store, strolling down the huge walkway back towards the movie theatre.

"So, did you get anything, Claudia?" asked Marty.

"Oh, just the new Rick Springfield album," she said. "He's so cute. Plus, 'What Kind of Fool Am I' is such a sweet song. I can't believe it's been out two months and I haven't gotten it till now."

"Wait, so you only got an album because the guy is cute?" teased Edward.

"Like Omigod. Who's talking? Who is the one who buys every magazine the Go-Go's are in? Somebody likes Belinda Carlisle, hehehe," she teased. He brushed it off like it was nothing. Marty watched that, and knew he could never be that casual, no matter what the condition was.

"Hey guys, Rick is cool," Marty said, as he stopped to turn right, toward the exit. "Well, it's getting late. I'm outta here, guys. Enjoy the movie, again," he said, chuckling. "See y'all later."

"Bye, Marty. See ya," they both said as they went their separate ways. Looking at his watch, he noticed it was 10:30. He had spent so much time looking around in the music store that he'd lost track of time, yet again. Picking up his speed to almost a run, he dashed out the front glass doors, narrowly avoiding a guy coming in, going the opposite way.

"Excuse me. Sorry," mumbled the young teen as he darted along the sidewalk parallel to the building heading toward the nearest crosswalk. He didn't quite know why he was in such a hurry – it was still an hour and a half before he was due to meet Doc Brown – but he just had the strange feeling something else would happen and he'd end up being late. It was quite ironic to him about that very thing in life. He was seemingly late for everything. No matter how early he got prepared, something would hold him back, be it simple laziness, a change in plans or forgetting. Despite all this, Marty somehow still easily let himself get carried away and often forgot to set his alarm – earning him some not so happy teachers at school.

On this hot summer morning, the sun was now practically straight up in the sky, less than two hours before high noon. In his haste to wipe some sweat off his face, he hesitated to see a large man in time to avoid completely running into him. His reflexes were pretty quick, so he managed to at least slow down quite a bit and slide to the side, but he still rammed the man a bit. The issue of height aside, he was now still big and strong enough to hurt someone if he'd been going fast enough. _Oh, sh-t! Please let this go over okay? Why do I always seem to cause these sudden accidents?_ "Hey. I'm really sorry. I-I didn't mean to, I shoulda been watching myself," he said in haste.

As he waited for the ball to drop, he got the biggest shock of his life. The guy not only didn't look angry (a little startled perhaps, but not mad), but he was suddenly familiar. "My God, Doc? Hey listen, I was, I was just on my way to meet you now. That's what the hurry was all over," he assured his new older friend, just to make sure.

"Not any problem, Marty. You know what that bumper sticker says: "_Sh-t happens!_" the white haired man offered in his loud, raspy voice, laughing aloud. "You sure were here early yourself."

Immediately relieved of his reaction, Marty continued, a little calmer now. "Yeah, I just woke up early. Well, you know, early for me, and wanted to get out of the house. I figured I'd hang out here for awhile. I ran into this guy I know from school and I got some music and a couple magazines."

"Mind if I inquire? I'd be interested in the knowledge," said Doc, much to Marty's surprise yet again. He continued, "You can show me in my new car, if you'd like a ride."

"Really? Cool. Should we get started early? I mean, it's still only about 10:30," he asked, as they walked to his newly bought LeBaron, parked on the other side of the lot. He had several habits, one of which was not to park next to other cars, if he could at all help it.

"So, when did ya pick this guy up?" questioned Marty as they began to drive off.

"Just this morning actually. This is only the second time I've driven the vehicle in all honesty. I got a good deal on it at Statler's used section. It was hard getting rid of my old Packard, though. You wouldn't believe all the years I invested into owning that baby," the scientist recalled with pride. He was still slightly regretful of selling it, but that was in the past and there was no changing that. Not yet at least.

"Yeah, I don't blame you. Too bad I didn't get a chance to see it," said the teen, as he noticed something. "Auto Reverse tape deck. Alright! This is a cool car, Doc. Most of the car tape decks I've seen are ones that you have to eject it and flip it over when one side ends."

As Doc turned left from JFK Drive onto Main (which became 395), he offered something. "The previous owner put a lot of careful detail and new features into it before parting with it apparently. If you want to play one of your new cassettes to break this puppy in, be my guest."

It was setting in how uncharacteristic of a man in his 60's this really was. He honestly had an interest not only in Marty as a person, but even cared to listen to his music. If he's making this all up to try and be my friend or whatever, he's doin' a d-mn good acting job. "Okay, you don't mind Jackson Browne, do ya?"

"Certainly not. Doesn't he sing that tune about 'Running on Empty'?"

"Hey, that's the guy!" Marty rejoiced. "This is his newest album. The one with that song was before this one," he said, as he carefully slid the white, shiny new cassette into the player. Several seconds later, the opening beat of 'Disco Apocalypse' began.

"I can't honestly say that I'm familiarized with this musical piece, but it sounds like something great to dance to."

_"Down the side streets and the avenues. There be sisters walkin', two by two…"_

The scientist resumed, "Normally incorrect English seems wrong to me, but I'll be d-mned if it's not more singable!" As he drive a bit, though, he was reminded of something else.

"By the way, last evening, I ran into your brother while I was getting one of my frequent meals at Burger King. I told him about our meeting and what your parents would say."

"Oh, God, I hope he didn't go tell them or something. He's usually pretty cool about that stuff, but I gotta make sure. What did he say?" he remarked with some worry.

"He simply said he felt your parents may be a little disapproving of it, but that it shouldn't be a monumental problem;. He said he would be willing to discuss it and see if he can convince your parents any differently," said Emmett, with more seriousness than he had a moment ago.

"That's great, Doc. I haven't seen him since I got in last night and he left for work. He usually gets back in the middle of the night when he works evening shifts. He musta been still asleep when I left too."

"So, I would assume that the rest of your family has no advanced knowledge of me, right?"

"No, not yet. That's what I'm really worried about. I mean, I know we met from a strange way yesterday, but thing is, it still happened. But how are my parents, mom especially, gonna react to it? I mean, with as different of an age as we are, how am I gonna convince her to let me see you, let alone help you out around your place?"

The scientist partially understood where his passenger was coming from. "I admit, I understand how tough this must be. You know, when I was about your age, my parents, especially my father, frowned upon my love for the author Jules Verne, and science in general. You should've seen their profound reactions when I told them I wanted to make my living in the scientific community. These were the days kids were expected to become doctors and lawyers, or run the family business."

Until this time, Marty had never thought about what the aging man was like at a much younger age. It was nice to hear some things about his own past, even if it was eons gone by now. "Well, you did it, right? I mean, did you get in trouble or anything? I don't know what it was like for kids back then, but I know it must've been heavy duty to blaze your own trail then, huh?"

"Without a doubt. They accepted it, but it took awhile, and my teenage years weren't the most pleasant time of my life," he recalled, a little sad.

"Sorry if I shouldn't be bringing all this up. Just wonderin' how did you get into science?"

"That's certainly alright," he reassured, before continuing. "It was when I was 11 years old in precisely the year 1931 A.D. I was younger than you are now. I used to spend a lot of time studying at school and reading whatever books they had on display there. Now, I wasn't some bookworm, but you must remember, there wasn't that much to do for kids in those days like now. My home life was not much more fun. Anyhow, I began reading _20,000 Leagues Under the Sea_, the famous Jules Verne novel. I felt I could identify with Captain Nemo to a degree. Up until then, nothing had quite captured me that way. I knew science was limitless, and the advances we could make I could only dream of. I imagine you feel a similar way about your music."

The teen listened intently. This was the first time anything about science interested him that much. He knew it didn't have to consist of boring school textbooks and phrases you needed a P.H.D just to pronounce. "Yeah, that's exactly it. I still remember this teenager in the neighborhood babysitting me when I was 6. A Rolling Stones song came on, and I just thought it sounded cool. Some old lady came over and was like 'Turn that noise down!'" Marty said, doing his best to imitate a cranky old lady. "I just laughed at how annoyed she got by it."

The scientist actually laughed a bit at the mental image of that. "That's not unlike when I accidentally caused a small explosion as I attempted to build a model airplane out of explosive chemicals." Earning a laugh in return, Emmett continued, this time more seriously. "However, like I was saying yesterday, I just don't think it's a good idea to keep secrets. That's why I think your folks should know about you meeting me. Particularly if you're going to be employed by me to any degree," he declared, sympathetically, as they got beyond the outer reaches of the suburban area, nearing Lyon Estates.

Marty hung his head in shame, about to revert back to his old way of thinking that anyone over about 40 was uncool, and just didn't understand. However, he knew that wasn't true already. He just sensed it. "Yeah, I guess you're right. My house is coming up here soon. We could stop in there and see if anyone is home. I doubt they will be, though."

"That's something we could try," he said.

Less than a minute later, they made a right turn into the housing complex. Doc slowed down as he neared Marty's driveway, near the dead-end part of the street.

"Ah. Mom is home after all. I'd have thought she'd be working," said Marty, as Doc followed him from a distance behind. Even though it was his idea, he couldn't deny that he was slightly nervous about what his mother would say of their newfound and unlikely friendship. If what he heard from Marty as well as his brother, Dave, was true, this may not turn out so good.

"Maybe I should wait out here first. If I come in unannounced, that could heighten her unease," he suggested.

"Oh yeah, good idea," Marty agreed, as he went inside his house. Stopping off at his room to quickly drop off his bag of records, he made his way into the living room and noticed his mom finishing up a phone call.

"…You too, dad. Yeah, George is looking forward to the trip too. So, we'll see you tomorrow around noon. Okay, bye bye," called Lorraine Baines-McFly as she hung up gently. She leaned back, sprawled on the couch in front of the TV with a muted episode of _The Price is Right_ on.

"Mom, hey, listen. I got something I gotta tell you. It's kind of important," said Marty, before she even had a chance to respond.

"Oh, what is it, hon?" she asked casually.

"Do you want the long version or the short version?"

"Whichever works for you, Marty."

Taking a deep breath, her son proceeded to give her a brief rundown of the previous day's events. "Look, he's right outside now. He said he wanted to meet you to discuss some stuff. I can tell him to come back another time," he finished his huge monologue with.

"I'm not too sure of this. Sure, he can come in, but I don't know if I feel right about you working for a man like that."

Without saying a word, Marty opened up the front door and lightly pushed against the screen door, holding it open for the man. "Coast is clear," he called, hoping for the best. Doc did too.


	4. Their First Outing

10:20 A.M.

Biff Tannen was a little happier today than usual as he looked through one of George McFly's final reports. The man's handwriting was usually a bit messy, but probably knowing the importance here, it looked considerably better. This could be what decided if the bank's president – and their boss – James Strickland would consider promoting the loan officer to a supervisor's position.

With a little more of a spring and his face not bearing its usual smirking or scowling look, he marched into Strickland's large office, just as the man was rearranging some papers on his desk. Hearing the creak of the door, the man (who bore a striking resemblance to his school disciplinarian older brother) jumped tensely.

"Who the h-ll is there!?" he shouted, no longer surprised, but angry.

_Man, this don't look good_. "Sir, Mr. Strickland, you wanted to see this stuff from last week. Sorry, maybe I shoulda knocked first," he said, with a very brief, almost sarcastic laugh.

"That's an understatement Mr. Tannen. You should always knock upon entering a superior's office or personal area. Since you've at least had enough discretion to not wear those ugly plaid pants into my bank today, I'll let it slide," assured the boss, now standing up straight and glaring at his employee. "But, remember this, only a loser doesn't knock. Now, let's see those papers."

As Biff gladly handed them over and hoped for the best, his boss looked through it, seeming satisfied. "I've still never caught you drunk at work, despite my thoughts to the contrary. Plus, so far, you've had a mostly good customer report, you apparently helped the Jones' family with that $2000 loan, and all these figures look applaudable to me," he said, as earnestly as a man like him would. However, he continued walking forward with the paper in his hand. "However, since when did the back pages not come the report, Tannen," Strickland said sternly, as if he were talking to a five-year-old.

Biff was confused as he was now. "Lemme see it. I know it was there when I checked it this morning. I-" he stopped dead sentence when saw that was indeed true. "I really don't know, maybe the other sheets are in my desk still or around the house. I'll look and correct the mistake soon, sir," he said.

"You've got one day, Mr. Tannen. If you can't produce a proper version of this report by tomorrow morning, the position will go to someone else on Monday. Even Lester Parker, perhaps."

After that conversation ended, the lifelong bully's mood changed back closer to how he normally was. Entering George's office several yards away in the same way he'd just gone into his bosses, he noticed his pushover co-worker standing up talking on his office phone, as if he were on the losing end of the conversation.

"Well, now, how much do you want to put down on your first visit, Mr. Williams? I'm positive we could work something out, I do-" he stopped when he heard a noise. "Wait, now, you'll have to hold on for just a minute," he said politely but uncertain, placing the phone gently face down on his desk and slowly straightening up into a stance.

"Oh, hey Biff, what can I do for you?"

"You can find the rest of this report, McFly. Idiot was finally happy with me for once, then he complains that the last two pages are missing here."

George was now in a situation he seemed to be in every day; not knowing what to say in a tight situation. However, he thought he recalled something from the morning. "Now that I think about it Biff, I-I might have misplaced the other pages. They're probably still out at the house. I remembered that this morning, but I didn't want to make us late for work by going back."

Looking only a teeny bit less angry, he rambled, "I dunno how you'd get the back pages separated, but sh-t happens sometimes. Jerk said I've got a day to hand it in, so why don't you take an hour off and go home to look?"

Not putting up any contest, he simply uttered, "Okay. Will anybody be covering for me, though?"

"Lester can do it, I guess. You two know each other pretty well," said Biff, as he went out to call him in.

"Yo, Lester," said Biff, approaching the empty teller window. "McFly is out for awhile on a, shall we say, personal errand. You can take his office till he's back."

"Me, taking George McFly's office? Are you sure that's a good idea, Biff? If I get found out, someone could get me in trouble. I could get in trouble," he repeated nervously. "What do I say if somebody calls?"

As they approached closer, Biff simply joked, "Just make somethin' up, say to call back when George is in if ya get really stuck."

"Okay, Biff, I'll do that. Thanks," called the suit and tie classmate of theirs from the 50's.

As soon as Biff was gone, George sauntered slowly back over to his phone, with the now impatient client on hold. He lifted it and droningly told the man, "Listen, sir, sorry to put you on hold this long. Something came up and I have to go. If you call back in an hour or so, I should be here to take the call."

After some words of protest, the man hung up, as George walked out of his office with his head hung a bit, ashamed of listening to everybody like this. He knew Marty was right in all he said about him, and all the times he tried to make him stand up for himself or speak what was really on his mind. Whatever the reasons, though, he just couldn't do it.

**.....**

10:40 A.M.

Coming inside the McFly household for the first time, Emmett Brown tried to make himself as presentable as possible. He combed his hair a bit, so it looked a little less frizzy than usual. He even tucked his shirt in (as uncharacteristic as it looked to have a Hawaiian shirt that way)! Walking forward a few steps to where he was now parallel with the kitchen, the scientist noticed Marty's mother just a few feet ahead of him.

"You must be Doctor Brown," she said, reluctantly shaking his hand. "I'm Lorraine McFly, nice to meet you. Do you wan anything to drink?"

Doc already noticed a bottle of Vodka nearby, and although he wasn't sure if she meant that kind of drink or not, he didn't want that. Not only was he a non-alcoholic with a low tolerance to the stuff, but he sure didn't want to set that kind of example for his young friend. "Well, if you have any soda, that would be fine enough with me."

"Are you sure, Dr. Brown? It looks like I forgot to refrigerate our liter bottles, how silly of me," she said, as Marty looked on nearby. He was glad that his mom seemed to not be indifferent to Doc as of yet, but he knew not to get his hopes up.

Meanwhile, the scientist reaffirmed, "Surely. By the way, you can just call me Emmett. Dr. Brown is too formal. That's for suit and tie kinda guys."

_Boy, he sure is different for his age_, Lorraine thought, as she got a glass, then opened up the freezer. Because she was ever so slightly drunk, as well as just being a bit rushed and careless (as was not uncommon with her), she was too hard on the ice tray and a few of the cubes broke. Pouring him a Diet Sprite, she offered a little apology.

"Emmett, I'm sorry if I cracked the ice. I've just been a little on end recently."

"Oh, it's alright. Any ice is still ice, ain't it? Should we all sit down?"

Giving the nod, they all walked toward the dining room table just as Dave came into the living room area. Not expecting to see the inventor there, he somewhat surprisingly greeted him. "Yo, Doc Brown. What'cha doin' here?"

"Marty and I came up with that solution. In fact, we all were going to discuss it."

"I gotta be at work at 11:30, but, do y'all mind if I listen in?"

Lorraine, somewhat uncharacteristically, didn't seem to. "Good morning, David. Of course I don't mind; if your brother has befriended this man, shouldn't we all know about it?"

"Well, it's kind of a long story. Should I start?" asked Marty, before continuing when he didn't hear any protest. "Yesterday I went to visit the guys, then all I was gonna do was stop by Burger King for a snack. I thought Dave might've been working too. Anyway, I ran into Doug Needles and his stupid punk buddies. They wanted me to egg the guy's house, I said no, and ended up p-ssing them off." After pausing to take a breath, he offered, "Doc, you can tell the rest if you want."

"Certainly. I was simply out walking my dog, Einstein, when I heard this commotion near my residence. I look up to see those four hooligans trying to run after Marty here. I stopped them, and Einstein even bit Mr. Needles on the leg. Not like the little jerk wasn't asking for it," he mumbled under his breath. "They ran off and I went to speak with Marty just for a brief moment. We ended up conversing about our lives a little, and what can I further say than despite a rather obvious age barrier, we seemed to connect."

Lorraine now had to say her piece. "Well, I very much appreciate what you, and your dog, did for Marty. You're a nice man, obviously, but may I just ask a question? You said that the two of you connected. I see that as hard to imagine. My Marty is barely a teenager, and you must be a bit older than I am. I don't see what you two would have in common."

Doc didn't particularly want to have to defend anyone's age. He respected everyone's opinion, and on the surface, he thought that wasn't an illogical point of view. However, he also believed that things like friendships were perfectly capable of transcending barriers of age or anything else. He felt every person is an individual all their own.

Marty, on the other hand, immediately hit his face and buried it in one hand, frustrated with seemingly close-minded responses like that.

As if to sense her younger son's dissention with that comment, Lorraine asked, "Marty, do you think that's a hard thing to imagine at all?" Turning to Doc, she said, "He has several friends his own age. These three in particular, he calls The Guys, are his early childhood best friends, Alex, Chris, and Scott. What's wrong with staying around them?"

"Nothing, mom. They'll always be buddies with me, ya know. But, why does that mean I can't hang out with older people on top of it? They're cool, I mean, they know more than me 'cause they've been through this h-ll known as adolescence."

"I suppose I can understand that part. Growing up isn't easy, even for me. I don't mind you having adult friends, but at least have them younger than me and your father, for Heaven's sake, sweetie. Dick from 7-11 is okay with me, he seems a nice young man too."

Doc mostly listened, but felt he should add something else in. "Mrs. McFly, I certainly don't fault your point of view. Believe me, I've considered these possibilities in life myself, but may I say something? It's because of the age difference that Marty probably feels he can't easily tell you all about me. I don't know him as well as you do, but I can assure you from not only talking with him, but from the little bit Dave here has told me, that he's a very good kid."

"Thank you, Emmett. I also sense that you're a nice man with concern, and Marty has taken an equal liking to you. I'll ask it differently; if you two were to be friends, what would you two possibly do together? That's more how I meant it."

"I can guarantee we won't be going to any Junior High School events together," joked Doc, before seriously continuing, "However, that doesn't mean any avenue for a friendship is lost. Basically, I'm somewhat of a town repairman and even run a business with a work van. However, my hobby has always been with science, ever since I was a young boy. My home practically doubles as a small laboratory, albeit a d-mn more fun and lively one! In yesterday's conversation, I briefly mentioned how much of a mess it is, and Marty said he'd be interested in helping me out in doing the occasional odd job. Of course, only if that's approved by you and your husband."

"I don't know what George will say, but I think Marty's a little too young to have a job now. He's my baby."

Dave, who had been sitting there, basically taking it all in, piped up. "Mom, he's 14 and growing up. He's not gonna be your sweet little boy forever. Plus, I know this dude, he orders from my place all the time. I didn't tell you till now, but I've kinda talked with him ever since I started there in '79. Believe me, he ain't a bad guy at all, and I've told him a little about you guys when we were talkin' and stuff."

The front door opened, just as Lorraine was about to respond. George shuffled into the house, worried and hoping he'd find what he needed. "Lorraine, I'm not really staying home for long, but I, uh, think I may have misplaced a couple papers this morning when I was writing them up for Biff."

"I saw them, George, I put them on top of the TV. By the way, this is Dr. Emmett Brown. Marty met him yesterday, it's a bit of a long story."

A little surprised, but not really minding, he reached for the man's hand. "I'm George. It's n-nice to meet you sir. Do you and Marty only know of each other recently?"

"Yesterday afternoon, to be precise. Long story short, I happened to intervene when some troublemakers were trying to get him to vandalize my property. We began talking and found we had some things in common, strange as it may seem."

"Our son wants to help this man out with jobs around his garage. He actually wants to work for this man. What do you think of that, George? Isn't it too early for that?" moaned Lorraine, not really thinking he'd staunchly stand up and agree with her.

He had actually heard a few mentions of Dr. Brown from Dave, so he wasn't opposed to it. In typical George fashion, though, he'd never go against anyone to their face. "Well, I suppose the move was a little sudden. I don't know, though, Dave has briefly told me about Dr. Brown. If Marty feels alright with it, it might be okay."

"Where are you going so soon?" she asked, noticing him heading back for the door.

"I should head back as soon as I can. Lester is covering for me at the bank. It's very important Biff has these papers, and if I don't get them to him soon, he might be angry. I'll see everyone for dinner. Take care, Dr. Brown," said George, walking with a little slouch out of the house.

Lorraine clearly wasn't pleased and downed another shot of vodka. _'He might be angry. Might be angry,' oh, just grow the h-ll up and be a man, George!_

Meanwhile, Doc had some thoughts of his own. _Great Scott! What a poor man. No wonder Marty feels so desperate to get out of this house._

Back at the bank, Lester was sitting in George's office. Although it was pretty uneventful, he was enjoying himself, mostly by reading whatever part of the newspaper George had. He also made a few personal calls, thinking it might also cut down the possibility of getting an incoming call while he was there.

However, before long, the phone did ring and George was nowhere in sight. It was too late. He couldn't hang up either, since it was a business and George might get in trouble if the caller reported it.

"Hello. Hill County Bank and Trust," he said, unsure of himself. "No, Mr. McFly isn't right now, but he'll be back shortly. I think he went on an early lunch break." Lowering the receiver, he repeated, "I think he's on lunch break."

A few seconds later, Lester continued, "Well, Mr. Williams, I'm sure if you call back soon, he'll be here. I know he won't be gone."

After an audible angering voice on the other end, he continued to try calming the man down. "No, we're not incompetent here, George just takes an early lunch sometimes because he, well, doesn't have time for breakfast at home."

The next thing the man said made him jump, though. "My, my boss. You want to speak to the bank president? Okay, hold on just a moment," said Lester, immediately worried. _Why didn't I have to make a call then?_

**.....**

10:55 A.M.

After driving Dave to Burger King for work, Lorraine and Marty also got out of her new Ford Taurus station wagon. Doc being the typical fast driver he was had left first, and managed to beat them by a couple minutes. He was still waiting outside. She'd decided to see what his place looked like before deciding if Marty should work there or not.

"I'm perfectly happy to show you the inside of my place. Just be forewarned, though, it's not very clean. Not only am I a packrat, but like I said, I have electronic parts everywhere," he assured. _Just thank goodness I don't have the time circuits out in anyone's view._

Lorraine stepped in a little reluctantly, despite her somewhat warming up to him. Marty, however, was excited to see the Doc's house. He noticed a few of the very machines he had mentioned earlier, such as the dog food can opener/feeder. He even noted a saxophone and some old records, even including some rock and roll. This was definitely not the typical living space of a man in his 60's, where he normally would've expected to find black and white styled things dating no later than the 1940's.

After chatting for a few more minutes, Lorraine asked, "So, what kind of handyman are you exactly?"

"More or less I do typical household electronic repairs, but sometimes a little extra, hence the _Scientific Services_ part of the name. This means I might wire up a videotape recorder to play on a 1950's TV, or spend extra time with the electrical parts of someone's pool. A jack of all trades, perhaps."

"Hmm, sounds interesting. I try to get George to fix stuff around the house, but he doesn't always do it right. I might call you for that in the future if that's okay," Lorraine said, with Doc's obvious nod of agreement. "However, wouldn't you want to at least wait until Marty is 16 before he helps you out with a job that pays money and requires work like that? A boy his age can't get a job."

"Well, I can understand this viewpoint. Marty was the one who wanted to work for me in some fashion or another. Let me assure you, he'll never have to work. It's strictly a voluntary basis for possibly just for a couple hours during the summer. In fact, I'll be willing to cut it down, or even discontinue it once school starts again so it won't interfere with his studies. Of course, it won't be for me by any means, I'll be paying him maybe 30 dollars a week for his services."

Lorraine began to think it was okay, especially when he mentioned school. "Alright. I can see this might not be as bad as I feared it to be. I don't know if he told you, but we're all going away for a short vacation this weekend. We'll be back on Monday."

Marty, lost in the task of checking stuff out still, didn't seem to hear her. Doc said, "Actually, no, I don't believe he mentioned that. Then again, both of our meetings weren't exactly routine or planned. We've each had a lot to discuss with each other apparently. Where are you guys goin', if you don't mind my inquiring?"

"To visit my parents in Marin County, near San Francisco. It's just for the weekend. We haven't been seeing that much of them in the last few years." Changing the subject, she assured, "Knowing that, how about just taking him on one or two calls today. You make sure my little boy is home before 5 o'clock, though."

Both Marty and the scientist frowned a little at that mention. When he was younger, he himself hated being talked about like that. However, he wasn't about to let that on. "Not a problem at all. I had appointed to make a short stop over at Lou's Café today to help repair their jukebox and look at the air conditioning. I can take him along just to observe for awhile."

"That sounds reasonable, Mrs. McFly."

"Please, since you wanted me to call you Emmett, feel free to call me Lorraine," she said, turning to leave. "Bye, Marty. Have fun with Doc, and be home in time for dinner."

"Oh yeah, I will be," said Marty, as he snapped out of his mini trance he'd sometimes get into. Something had caught his attention in Doc's living room. "Hey, Doc, is that your sax?"

"Certainly. God help me, I'm not a very seasoned player, but I enjoy having it around. I'm the type that will buy anything I might even have a remote interest in, if ya can't tell."

"That's really cool. Maybe we could play together some time," suggested the teen.

**.....**

11:30 A.M.

George came trotting back into work, a little faster than normal. He was glad to have found what he needed to, but hoped his absence hadn't cause more trouble than it was supposed to have averted. Just as he was about to sigh with relief, he saw his boss, James Strickland, standing at his office door with a stern, angry look. _Oh no, this probably isn't a good sign._

"Ahh, Mr. McFly, just the man I wanted to see," he declared flatly.

"Hello. Is there any trouble, sir?"

"Oh, according to one of my callers, there sure is. He says you put him on hold and were of little help this morning. Next thing he knew, he called back only to get your dimwitted buddy, Lester Parker on the phone. Since you just came back into the bank, I assume you went out without my consent. Would you like to explain that, McFly?"

George could tell the plain truth of his whole life: Biff Tannen made him do nearly everything in some form since they were 6 years old; and rarely, if ever, got in trouble. However, dealing with an angry Biff didn't appeal to him, but he didn't want to implicate one of the few friends he had either. He tried to fib.

"I should've told you, but my wife, Lorraine, wanted me to get something from the, uhh, grocery store. The Safeway around here has things that, you know, um, our closer stores don't have."

"And this is something you couldn't have done after work?" asked James, pointing his finger.

"Well, you know how she can be, sir. When she wants something, she just wants it. Ha ha ha ha," he said, laughing and hoping it would get the man on his side, if only to a small extent.

"OK, I guess I can buy that part, McFly, but that still doesn't explain why Mr. Parker was in your office when he should've been at the teller's counter. What does he know about loans?"

"I really don't know what he was doing in my office, sir. I didn't tell him to go in. Maybe he just decided to cover for me," said George weakly. Even he was getting angry with himself. _Please, you've got to think of something better than that. He'll know if you're not careful._

"Hmmm, that sounds like something Biff Tannen would do. I better go ask that loser!"

George was now getting really worried. Whatever happened, he couldn't let Strickland find out the truth. He timidly followed his boss into Biff's office.

"Excuse me, Tannen. A question if I may. You weren't by chance, responsible for having the dimwitted repeat speaking Lester taking over for Mr. McFly while he was gone, were you? It's just like you, Tannen, to devise something like that!" he snapped.

"Uh, no. Maybe he decided to do it himself," said Biff, chuckling.

"McFly claims to not know who did it either," began James Strickland, as George uncharacteristically cut in.

"Uhh, Mr. Strickland, now, I'm-I'm sorry sir, it was my fault. I had to run an errand for Lorraine, like I said, but I told Lester he could cover for me. It's not Biff's fault," he trailed off, desperately hoping for the best.

"I'll be asking him too, but since I believe what you've told me is true, you've got more reports to do this week, McFly. Try not to let a loser like that cover for you next time," said the balding man, hastily walking away.

Within a few seconds, Biff's demeanor changed. "What the h-ll? You told the lousy b-stard that you did it. Thanks a lot, McFly; that saves my a-s. I'll buy ya a beer or something on the way home."

Of all the current 38 years he'd known Biff, he could be friendly on the odd occasion, and he was glad when those came. Over time, though, he never expected them to last long. "Well, okay, I guess that would be nice. I had to tell him that, I-I didn't know what else to do. I can't tell him I do your reports."

"Hey, I tell ya what. I'll do the rest of 'em myself for today," said Biff. He actually did do some of his own work anyway, but often gave George the harder stuff. He let up this time.

**.....**

As Doc's large van entered downtown Hill Valley, Marty had to ask Doc Brown something. "So, Doc, have you ever met Lou? I've been in there a couple times, but never seen him. His son is usually working. I hear the guy is really old too."

"Oh, yes he's over 80 at the moment, but I recall the man quite a bit, back when it was a malt shop in the 1950's. It looked quite different than now."

"Yeah, I've heard my parents mention that sometimes. Was that the only place for teens to hang out back then?" asked Marty, amazed that there weren't yet malls a mere three decades earlier.

"I was already in my 30's by then, but I'm hip enough to remember that they were the main gathering place for young people. They had a giant jokebox and cheaper coffee. Lou, though, he was a little grumpy with people sometimes, but not a bad guy in general," affirmed Doc, as he parked on the corner of Hill & Main, opposite his destination.

As they got out of the van, Marty asked, "Anyway, how long are you gonna be here for? I don't mind if it's awhile."

"Oh, just a couple simple repairs. It should be under half an hour."

With that, they walked inside the modern looking restaurant. It bore little resemblance to the café he remembered. There were a lot of younger people inside, mostly in the teens and 20's snacking or playing video games in the right-hand corner. Over to the left, near the payphones, a jukebox was there. It would usually be playing current hits with most patrons singing or tapping along with. Today, though, it was broken.

"Hey Emmett, nice to see ya," called the middle-aged man behind the counter.

"Good morning, Bobby," he started, referring to longtime owner Lou Caruthers' 54-year-old son. "How bad is the air conditioning as of now?"

"Not good, my friend. I think we might've blown a duct from having it on full blast the last couple months all the time," he said, laughing a bit. "Also, that d-mn jukebox doesn't seem to want to play the records without skipping either."

"Ah, h-ll, I'll take some rockin' music over cold air any day, dude!" shouted one of the teenagers.

Waving to him gently, so as to politely tell him that would be taken care of too, the man was about to wave Doc over to the back, where the central unit was. He stopped to say something, though. "Oh, Bobby, this is my new neighborhood friend, Marty. He's a great kid, and might be helping me out occasionally on my calls."

"Hey, nice meetin' ya," said Marty, as they shook hand. "Far out place you got here. Doc says this used to be a malt shop too."

"Certainly. We've changed a lot in the past 25-30 years. It's hard for even me to believe."

"Bobby, if it's appropriate for me to inquire, how's your father doing?" asked Doc.

With a sigh, he quietly said, "Not good, buddy. Not good at all. He's resting at home and hasn't been in for a few months now. I'm afraid his working days are over."

For the next 20 minutes, Marty patiently waited as Doc took apart the building's air conditioner – even starting his helping him by getting certain tools from the van. To his own surprise, he wasn't bored at all. Something about Doc just made it interesting. Although, being able to check out random girls who came in didn't hurt either. Just a few minutes short of High Noon, as he was furiously screwing away at one of the internal mechanisms (with probably a million covers and screws lying around), a loud whirling sound was heard.

"It's even stronger than before! Great Scott!" shouted the scientist, almost jumping with joy. Marty smiled at this. He loved seeing that kind of youthful, vibrant energy coming from a 62-year-old man, especially since it wasn't exactly common. He also took some mental notes on all the methods of repair Doc was doing.

With both of them stepping out of the back office area, Doc relayed, "Bob, everything is repaired and good as new. The fan belts needed replacing and I cleaned out the internal mechanisms, so it will run even better than previously. Now, all I have to do is look at the jukebox!"

"Yeah!" cheered most of the customers, though they were happy to get the AC back as well.

"Hey, we shoulda done this first, so I could've heard some tunes while we were doing that," said Marty as an afterthought, just as Doc unplugged the large jukebox with green and orange flashing lights on the bottom.

"Marty, can you help me inch this away from the wall?"

"Yeah, sure," the teen said, standing on the right side of it as he propelled it forward. Partly given his athleticism and that he was often doing something physical in some way, he was stronger than his small, skinny size would seem to contradict that. Doc, too, was in great condition for a man of his age. In fact, he was probably one of the sole people bordering on being a senior citizen who did this kind of daily physical job. Without much trouble, they pulled it out a few inches from the wall, to where Doc had easy access to it. Examining the rear top part closely, he picked up a Philips head screwdriver and started going to work.

Marty watched in awe as he laid out all the appropriate screws carefully on a nearby table he 'borrowed' for the moment. The young teen had never seen this kind of work done on a musical object like this before, and being an aspiring musician, it interested him even more. "It's so cool that you get to do work like this every day."

Before long, the scientist had the glass top off, and was checking out the compartment where the records played. He was one of the few people who felt confident working on electronics while they were plugged in. In the past, he'd sometimes learned about that the hard way via electrical shortages and fires.

"I've got to test this out. Pick a record, Marty!"

"OK. Are you sure about this, Doc? Y'ever worked on a jukebox before?" he asked, a teeny bit unsure.

"Well, not for this precise problem, no. But, I'm positive my operation will go okay," he assured, moving back behind the machine.

After a few seconds of searching, Marty put in a quarter and tried to play a new Rod Stewart song. Doc backed up a bit but still observed the machinery. Sure enough, within seconds, the sound began to scratch wildly until it actually cut off, completely dead.

"Great Scott! This machine certainly isn't in good condition. Let me examine the record to ensure that wasn't what it was."

With the machine now exposed and part of the rear cover taken off, he was able to get to the LP within seconds. It was in fine condition, so that wasn't it. He put it back in its place before taking a flashlight out of the white lab coat he had redressed himself into before leaving. The inside parts of the player clearly looked a bit worn. However, the imminent problem was the needle that was connected to the arm of the record player. It certainly was living a rough life, but happened to finally give up and break just then.

_That's either a lucky or unfortunate coincidence. _Doc considered the next thing to do with it. Fortunately, he had that area to himself to work in. It was in a relatively isolated part of the building anyway, but, quite a few people had either moved tables or left.

"Bobby," called Doc, taking a few steps to the front counter. "I think the needle required to read the albums has finally decided to give up on life. I don't think I'll be able to repair it here at this time. If you like, I could arrange to transport it to my garage and work on it there."

"Man, I knew that thing was gonna go kaput at some point soon. The kids love it too. I tell you what, I won't ask you to do that, but if you do, I'll have to pay you extra," offered the man, looking over at the machine.

"Not to worry. I'll have her back here within a few days. You don't have to pay extra, though. You know I've loved doing anything remotely scientific or mechanic since I was a boy."

"You did quite a bit of work just to take it apart. Are you sure you want to have to reassemble it just to transport it, do the work, then take it back? That's a lot of effort, Emmett."

"I don't really have anything else to do. Business has been a little slower than usual. Ironic for the summertime," said Doc. With that, it took him a few minutes to halfheartedly tighten up the screws again, just enough to hold the thing in place. With the help of Marty, as well as a few other guys from the Café, they all managed to squeeze it into the back of Doc's work van.

As they drove off, again heading toward Doc's house on the opposite end of town, Marty commented, "I wouldn't mind helping you out when I can with that kind of work. I'm not just sayin' that 'cause of the jukebox either. Even the air conditioner was cool to see too."

"You know it's nice to have someone who shows an interest in your work and your life. It may take awhile for you to pick up everything I do, though. For now, if you go out on calls with me, just doing small tasks, such as getting tools for me, helping me transport things, or maybe some very simple repairs," Doc said, sometimes taking his eyes off the road. Luckily he was a very skilled driver.

"That sounds cool to me, Doc."

Glad as he was to have apparently made an already faithful friend, the man was a little curious as to the other point of view. "Marty, would you mind if I asked you something a little bit personal?"

"Oh yeah, shoot. It's not like I even have much personal stuff to share."

"I realize we seem to have a lot of common ground, and I'm slightly acquainted with your brother, Dave, but we are almost 50 years apart. Wouldn't you rather get better acquainted with your peers, rather than some old man who does odd jobs and scientific experiments?"

Marty himself had to think about that for a moment. "I dunno, I mean I'm not good at feelings and all that, but you're more cool than the normal guy your age. I feel like I can tell you stuff that I'd never dream of telling my parents. Even though Dave is older than me, he's still too close to my age to see things way differently. You've already been through it."

"What kind of things, if it's okay with me to question?"

"A lot. Like I have a hard time saying no to people. I can't believe how much I feel like my old man sometimes. For me, it's saying no to challenges and all. For him it's any little thing. I sometimes wonder he managed to even get married and have three kids," he said, deciding to stop right there. Any further beating of the topic would only get him depressed and angry.

Reflecting back on the timid looking semi dorky man he'd briefly met that morning, he couldn't disagree. "Yes, your father doesn't strike me as the sharpest guy on the block. I'm sure he's a good man, just one who's not confident in himself. I sense how opposite of most of your family that you are, though. Are you worried about what people think of you in any given situation?"

"Yeah. That's why I'm so hard on myself and try really hard to be cool. Okay, I can't talk to a girl for the life of me. I don't just mean asking 'em out, but even barely saying hi. At the mall this morning, I ran into this guy from school and he was with his new girlfriend. She just talked to me for a second and I felt a million times more nervous than if I performed on Johnny Carson. "

A small part of him still expected the rebuttals to fly, such as being 'too young' to worry about that, or knowing 'it would work out in time' like George McFly would usually say. They didn't from Doc, though.

"Even at my age, I'm not as experienced with women as I wish I was. They truly are a great mystery to me," he said, thinking of his past relationships, many of which ended poorly. They also were becoming more distant memories. He was probably the oldest bachelor he knew, and was certain that by this point in his life, it would stay that way; forget the prospect of ever having a family.

When he was confident he had the teen's full attention, he continued, "Marty, I have a common saying in life. Simplistic as it may sound, I believe if you put your mind to it, you can accomplish anything."

**.....**

At around 12:15 P.M., they arrived back at Doc's garage.

"I just need to quickly check my answering machine as well. You know, someday in the future, it would be convenient to have portable telephones you could take anywhere with you."

Following just a few feet behind as they went inside, Marty agreed. "Yeah, that'd be pretty far out, but what if you lost it?"

"If anything like that does truly exist in the future, we'll have a way to work that out," he said, turning on his answering machine. In 1982 terms, it was pretty state of the art, with a full sized cassette player used for his answering message and the other for callers.

_"You have 1 mess-age,"_ the computerized voice said. Soon afterwards, the tape finished rewinding.

_"Hello, Dr. Brown, this is Joe Preston. Our pool jets at the house aren't working at full force anymore. I was wondering if you wouldn't mind having a look at them sometime in the next day or two. It's Thursday, about 11:30 in the morning. Hope to hear from you soon."_

Marty's eyes lit up. "Holy cr-p! I know that guy. That's my friend, Edward's dad. That was the guy I ran into this morning at the mall. I can't go with you on that one. Look, I fibbed an excuse this morning for why I wouldn't hang out with him. Doc, none of my friends know about me knowing you and I wouldn't know what to say."

Before the teen could continue, the older man calmly said, "Marty, it's alright. You've known me for, what, one day? You can't expect everyone to know. At least your family does. Even if your mother is a little unwilling to cut the cord, I know she's taking it far better than she could have. When I was your age, if I had befriended an old man, my mother would've had me committed to an insane asylum."

"That bad? Let me know, I mean, what were you like at my age? You were into science, but, if I ran into you at 14 years old, what could I expect to find with young Doc Brown?"

"A misunderstood, semi rebellious kid who was skipped ahead three grades in school, and ended up causing trouble when all he wanted to do was get close to people."

It wasn't in his style to show feelings, since he had a slight tough guy image of himself. However, he couldn't help feeling truly sorry for Doc's past life. Before he could say anything, though, there was a sudden knock at the door.

"I wonder who that could be. I seldom get visitors here," Doc said, rushing over to the front door located behind the fenced-in entry. He recognized a recently familiar face.

"Hello. Alexis from the car dealership! I remember you, obviously. What brings you here?" he asked, with jus a little excitement and surprise.

"I was on my lunch break and just thought I'd give ya your wallet. Jim found it after you left this morning. He was gonna take it over to you, but since I was heading into this area anyway, I told him I would."

"My wallet? Great Scott! I presume my jitters over buying the car had my mind involved else. I owe you something in return for this, ya know?" said the scientist, thankfully. "Do you want to come in for a moment?"

Marty was surprised. "Doc? How'd you pay for stuff without that? You went shopping this morning when I ran into you, right?"

"Yes, but I carry extra spare cash in my pockets sometimes. Luckily for me I have those strange habits. I'm still a bit surprised I failed to notice," Doc said, inviting the young woman in.

"By the way, this is Marty. He's a neighborhood kid who helps me with household chores and the occasional assistance with my work," he said, fibbing just a little. To be honest, he wasn't 100% sure _exactly_ what to call their relationship as of yet. He already felt comfortable with the young woman, having had a few nice talks with her already. Still, though, he thought it was best to be careful and just bend the truth for now.

"Heya, Marty, nice meeting you," she said, casually looking around at all the equipment in the place.

"Yeah, same with you. That's a nice car Doc bought this morning," he said, doing his best to make small talk. He did always want to have something intelligent sounding to say when he met new people.

Before long, turned left once inside the main 'living room' area, heading into the central lab part of Doc's converted house. At first, he didn't think anything unusual of it. Then he remembered something. _The time circuits! Great Scott, nobody can know about those._

Rushing over as if to guard the entryway like a kid might try to stop his parents from seeing a mess, the scientist, somewhat nervously improvised, "Oh, hey, wait! I-I thought we all could just stay out here. I can provide us with snacks if it's so inquired. That's where the kitchen is."

"Yeah, I'll at least stay out here, Doc. What have you got in there though, is it some big secret?" Marty asked, only jokingly.

"Why don't we just say it's a mess? Not just any mess either. Sometimes I get so involved in my work that I end up leaving the lab looking like a small earthquake might've hit it. Trust me, cleaning it up would be hard."

"How hard is it?" she asked, assuming he was exaggerating.

"Um, nothing I can really delve into at the moment. But, by no means does it mean I'll be leaving it in its current condition."

Marty chuckled as the silly debate continued. Casually looked at his watch, he announced, "Hey, it's getting late and I've got a few places I wanna stop, so I'm gonna get going, guys. Doc, I guess I'll see you on Monday as soon as we get back."

"Enjoy the trip, Marty. As much as you possibly can," said Doc, half-jokingly, as Marty slipped out the front door.

"Yeah, later, Doc. See ya, Alexis," he said, barely waiting for a response as he briskly walked out to JFK Drive.

Turning left, Marty couldn't help but feel like today was going much better than expected, for the both of them. _I wouldn't mind doin' some odd jobs or other stuff every afternoon or something to help the Doc out. I could've cared less about science a day ago, and now I'm startin' to think it's cool._

As he went further, he started reflecting more on the man. _Geez, this sure has been an interesting past day for him too. He met me, bought a new car, and hauled that jukebox to his place. Heck, it looks like he made two new friends. I mean, that chick was nice, but seemed a little too friendly to have just been returning his wallet. Oh well, I think it's time I should tell the guys about him now._

The teen thought if anyone he knew wouldn't worry about him meeting Doc, it would be The Pinheads: Chris, Scott and Brantley. As he started in the direction of his home, though, still on JFK Drive, he heard someone calling him.

"H-hey McFly!" the angry, young male voice shouted.

Marty turned around to spot just the guy he hoped to avoid. Needles. Although he was alone, it was still bad. Breathing a heavy sigh, he monotonously went, "Yeah, hey Needles. What's up?"

"I tell you what's up, Big M. My parents found out about what went on yesterday. Now I don't know if your punk –ss was responsible for that, or that insane old geezer friend of yours. What I do know is that you're gonna pay. Not only for getting' me busted, but for wussin' out on egging that goon's garage."

In a good mood and not wanting to deal with any of this, he just said, "Buzz off, man. What's up with you lately? We used to hang out when we were little kids and all."

"Yeah, that was before I knew what a punk you were. Look, I was gonna let you off easy, but you've made me mad now," called Douglas Needles, his young, but already ugly looking face getting too close to Marty for comfort.

As he shrugged and walked off, Needles called, "C'mon, McFly, you're gonna fight me, aren't you? Unless you're chicken!"

That was the nail in the predictable coffin. The other teen tensed up. He was now suddenly just as mad as before upon hearing that infamous remark. "Nobody calls me chicken," he quietly but angrily declared.

"Oh yeah? Prove it. If you don't take a swing at me, maybe I'll take it out where it rightfully deserves to be. On Doctor Brown. That sh-thead's mutt bit my leg and I ain't lettin' him get away with it either."

Now Marty was even more vengeful. "Leave Doc out of this or you're gonna be sorry!"

"He's a crazy old f-rt that should be in a mental hospital. You just can't live with that, can you, McFly?"

"Alright -ssh-le, that's it! Enough insulting my friends," Marty said as he quickly balled his right hand into a fist and knocked the other teen in the mouth before running off. He hurried up, in case he'd be followed. Instead he only heard Needles shouting.

"You son of a b-tch! That's my tooth you got!"

Apparently the punch dazed him enough to fall over and lay there awhile. He did feel a little guilty, but if he had any flaws, it would be his short fuse in situations like that. Marty still increased his walking speed. Within 15 minutes, he made it back home. Stomping in, still breathing a little hard, he just wanted to head for his room and be left alone for a while. He was stopped by Lorraine's voice, again coming from near the TV.

"Marty. Honey, you're home early. That was only a couple hours you were gone. Did you and Dr. Brown have a nice time?"

Amazingly, with everything that took place with Needles, he momentarily forgot about the trip he took with Doc. "Oh, um, yeah. It was nice. We went to Lou's the fix the air conditioning system and even their old jukebox which had a busted needle."

"That's nice, I knew he seemed okay, even if he is a little, well, different. You look exhausted, though, is everything okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine, mom. Just perfect."

"You don't look fine. Did anything happen?" Lorraine prodded, as she sometimes would.

"Come on, please. I don't want to talk about it, alright?"

"I know it's something. We don't have to talk about it now, but it's not about Dr. Brown, is it?"

Walking down the hall anyway, he just said, "No, nothing like that. Look, I kinda ran into that jerk Needles, and we got in a scuffle," he downplayed the word, to make it sound less bad than it was.

"You boys don't need to fight, you know? When I went to school, boys never fought like this. I think that's terrible."

Not even paying her any mind, except a nod as if to say Yeah, yeah. I've heard this all before, Marty went into his room and loudly shut the door.

Truth be told, he wasn't sure if going out of town for a few days would improve or worsen his mood. On one hand, he'd be away from his friends, and from Doc, not to mention cramped with the family in tight quarters. On the other side, though, it would get him away from Needles. The last thing he needed was that jerk looking for revenge. The two had been in arguments and made threats in the past, but this was the first time anything was done about it. Deep down, Marty knew it was wrong to throw the first punch, even if he was about to get hit himself. But, he couldn't stand there and let those things be said about a friend of his.

**.....**

7:30 P.M.

"You're home late," Lorraine retorted to George, as if she were talking to a small kid. "Dinner has been ready for over an hour. Why didn't you call if you were going to be late? Doing more favors for Biff?" she asked, slightly harsh and resentful in tone.

"You're right. I should've called, I'm sorry. Actually it was Biff, but it wasn't that. He actually went out with me after work for a beer."

"When was the last time you did that? How'd this happen, George? That's so unlike him."

George started to laugh as he put his now cold plate into the microwave. "Uhh, well, when I had to come home today, he had Lester cover for me. I told Strickland I didn't know about it. I-I just don't want to make Biff angry, especially if he'll soon be my supervisor."

His wife stifled the urge to tell him to grow up and be a man, instead deciding to move onto another subject. "What do you think of seeing my parents tomorrow?"

"I don't know. It might be nice seeing them again. I just don't know what your dad will say," he said, quietly, not wanting to think about it much.

"I know hasn't always been very accepting of you, and he's always been a little bit of a grump with me, but if he got through us being married, you don't have to worry about it now."

When the microwave beeped, he just said, "Okay, you're right."

"Kids, your father is home. Come out for dinner!" Lorraine shouted above the other noises in the house. Dave & Linda emerged from in front of the TV, while Marty followed, a little late as usual. Just as they all sat down, there was a loud knock at the front door.

"At this hour, who is going to be knocking at our door?" Lorraine complained. "George, would you answer that?" she called to her husband, now absorbed in the TV already.

Without saying a word, he shuffled over and opened the door. Standing there were two officers, one male, one female, with a disheveled looking young teenager whom the man faintly recognized.

"Hello guys. Can I help you?"

The female officer spoke up. "You're George McFly, right? Father of Marty McFly?"

"Uhh, yeah," he said, looking down.

"Sorry to disturb you sir, but this boy here says your son assaulted him earlier this afternoon. Do you know of this to be true?"

Hesitating for a moment, he just told the truth the best he knew. "No, not that I'm aware of. He didn't say anything about it."

Officer Reese, a woman in her mid 20's and new to the force, continued by asking, "Is Martin home now? If so, could we have a word with him?"

At the table, Marty became petrified, but knew his father wouldn't be able to lie. This was a time he really wished they'd left on vacation this evening instead. "Marty. Some people want to see you up here," George called, before wandering back over to the dinner table.

Marty came out a little apprehensively. "Hi there. What's going on?" he asked, casually as possible.

"Mr. McFly, this kid you know claims you punched him hard enough to knock out a tooth today. Is this true?" Reese asked, with Doug Needles behind her and her partner.

_Oh man, I'm really gonna get it now. I just know the moron is gonna claim he didn't do anything, just to get me in trouble._

"We got in a little bit of a fight, yeah. Sorry about that. He threatened me for getting him in trouble earlier, though, and started saying really nasty stuff about some guy I know. I'm sorry for hitting him, but I couldn't just let him do all that."

"You know we arrest troublemaking kids like you now for things like that," said Reese, somewhat accusingly.

Reese's male partner, a big but nice and mild-mannered black guy named Ernie Jones spoke up. "We've had complaints about him before, so I don't doubt what you said is true. However, unless he actually made a move to hit you first, you shouldn't have assaulted him."

"Hey, quit lying, punk, or I'm gonna be the one beating your –ss in another fight!" shouted Needles.

"That's enough from you, Mr. Needles," said Reese, taking him back to the cruiser, out of sight. "Jones, make this fast. We gotta get to our next call anytime now," she said to her partner for that particular day.

"Yeah, you guys are right, but what can I do now? I mean, are his parents gonna hate me, or try to sue my parents?" asked Marty.

"Due to Needles' track record of juvenile offenses, we're going to just let everyone go with a warning. Hey, kid, I can't fault you for getting fed up with the little punk, Lord knows we sure have," said Jones with a slight chuckle, to which Marty fed back. "However, I highly advise staying away from him at all costs for quite some time."

Feeling a little more at ease talking with another guy, he said, "That won't be much of a complaint from me. Basically the reason I snapped was that he threatened to get back at some guy I just became friendly with. This is nobody from school. An older guy I know," Marty went on, still not sure if he should tell the whole truth or not. This man seemed pretty reasonable and willing to listen.

"Is it okay if we ask who this friend is?"

_Alright, what have I got to lose now? Sure I can BS, but these are cops, so it's a little different. Besides, this guy seems nice enough, maybe he'll understand._

"Yeah, Dr. Emmett Brown. He lives on JFK Drive near the Burger King."

"You mean, the Doc Brown? I only met him once, but Reese has been to his place a few times. He's maybe a little unique, but seems like a good guy overall. How'd you two meet and how is Douglas Needles involved with that?"

Thank God he thinks Doc is okay. Marty was relieved at bit, as he recalled to the office the unlikely events of the previous day, which now seemed forever ago.

"Quite interesting," the officer said, now having a slight change of heart and siding with Marty. "Brown seems like a nice gentleman for getting you out of that mess. Mr. Needles, not surprisingly, didn't tell us that side of the story. You know what, I'm gonna let you off with a warning, but you need to watch yourself."

"Thanks. I'll do my best to do that. Usually I can keep my temper in control, but being around guys like that is enough to drive anyone crazy," said Marty, starting to turn to go back in the house before stopping in his trails. "Oh, one other thing. Your partner said you might arrest me. Is that true?"

"You might be if this kind of thing were to continue, but not now. Reese here sometimes exaggerates things just to get her point across," Jones said, apparently not too fond of today's partner. "You can go back inside now, but just keep outta trouble, kid. Next time, just give us a call if this brat bothers you instead of taking it into your own hands."

Marty had no problem agreeing to that. "You're really right, thanks for the advice. Good night," he said, waving, as he turned back to go in the house. He clearly was not looking forward to having to relay this conversation to his family. To his surprise, Lorraine was already standing in the doorway, apparently having listened to every word.

"Marty, what on Earth was going on today? Did you get in a fight? I don't know how you could not tell us about this," she said, finger pointing while sounding a bit more worried as opposed to angry, even though Marty knew it was both. "Don't you think the boy should be punished for this, George?" she whined.

Only paying marginal attention because of the unusual nature of the event, he still was half glued to the television set and said, "It certainly would have been better for him to tell us, but I suppose it's okay now."

Lorraine shrugged and continued, "I know that Needles boy is up to no good, Marty, but you didn't need to hit him, you know? If this is all about Doc Brown, maybe you shouldn't be around him after all."

_Didn't we just go through a lot today to get you to change your mind on Doc in the first place? Now you're changing your mind again?_ Marty stood there, starting to stew much like he had before that very fight earlier in the day. "What's that mean, mom? I thought you said you didn't mind me seeing Doc."

"I don't mind it for him anymore, he's a nice man. But, if you're going to get into fighting because of him or what Needles thinks of him, maybe you shouldn't have that influence."

Linda, always the sarcastically rude one (even if she did have a point sometimes) jumped in. "I saw that weird guy once when I went with Dave to work. I mean, ugh! Gag me. God knows why you'd wanna be around that obnoxious old weirdo," she scolded her younger brother as if she were his wife or second mother.

The teen began to get angry all over again, not to mention internally frustrated. "What is everyone's problem!?" he shouted, uncharacteristically madder than normal. This momentarily startled everyone, especially his parents. "Just the slightest d-mn thing and you go jumping to these conclusions about me or what I do. I complain about school, and, 'Oh, it's that angry rock and roll music, Marty,' and you don't even know what the h-ll you're talking about!

There was a moment of stunned silence. Sure, he'd gotten mad and argued with his folks and authority figures before, but it still was on a reasonable level usually. He'd thrown loud temper tantrums as a little kid, but that was when he was easy to control. At this age, it was beginning to be more dangerous if he got this mad.

"Keep this up and you're not going on that trip tomorrow, young man!" scolded Lorraine. "You can have your dinner later. Just go to your room!"

"That room stuff might've scared me when I was 5, okay," he said, continuing to rant, but taking a breath and relaxing a little. Look, it's not just about Doc, it's about me. All I'm tryin' to say is you assume stuff is always wrong with everything. I mean, why do you take the first thing that comes into your head and stay with it?"

Not having a direct, easy answer she was willing to go into (and, furthermore, not being in the mood), she just echoed the kind of thing she'd normally say. "I suppose I don't understand what's popular today with you three kids, especially the boys. When I was a young girl at your age now, I didn't have crazy older friends, talk about boys all the time, or ride a dangerous skateboard-"

"Yeah, well, you weren't normal!" he snapped loudly, cutting her off mid-sentence.

George was watching the exchange very closely, unlike usual. Getting up and walking a little closer to his son, he held his hands out and tried to be firm. "Marty, please calm down!"

Ignoring his father, the young teen was already bolting for his bedroom, followed by a door slam a moment later.

"My God, that brat needs a straightjacket," came Linda's comment.

"Ah, come on," Dave said, finally speaking up. "Yeah, he went a little crazy, but you can't expect the kid to not react to being treated like a baby all the time, ma!"

As if to corroborate that statement, George went back to the TV and said, "Oh, you know. I think he'll be okay if he just, uhh, has some time alone. In the morning, it's likely he'll have forgotten about it."

Sighing, Lorraine proposed, "If that's the way you all feel, David, would you have a talk with him later?"

"Yeah, what the h-ll?"

Deciding not to be overly picky, she chose not to get angry with her older son for his 'too casual' kind of talking. She simply said, "Everybody else, let's just enjoy our dinner and pack afterwards. I sure hope the next few days are a little more relaxed than this."

Whether or not most of the family got along with Lorraine or not, no one could argue with that.


End file.
